A lot of shit goes on in my head that I
can't
quite
explain.
Even right now as I jot down my thoughts, my words can't seemed to be detained, like some
|crim|inal| beh| ind| a|ca|ge.
Yet, my pen became my lawyer, as it took heed to the filler paper of my peers, taking propitiation toward the magistrate of my hearing. In turn, finding these thoughts innocent.
However
I was confined to finding refuge on the block.
The cuffs of my introspection becoming
Un/loc\ked
for my ship had sailed and it was no longer docked--by an
|A|
|N|
|C|
|H|
|O|
|R|
of negative poachers.
The assessment of these notions transpired my brain under such potion--of "meditation"
Such fierce "contemplation" that unhooked a rein of deep "concentration", that no longer settled this "consideration", though by numerous "penetration"--of endless mind, it finally stirred a resonating "deliberation".
My thoughts were un-chain-ed.
Waging war alongside ingenuity.
My mental capacity was limitless and the p i l l s I was handed wasn't to subdue such creativity.
These ideas were mutiny, I was going crazy presumably, yet beautifully--as the cells and atoms lodged in my cranium had increased percentage....
I was a transformed L.U.C.Y.
My thoughts were revolting.
Pledging a riot to those who upheld the social norm.
________________________
My fire arm x10 of Einstein's. >>>>>>>
__________| |____________/
| |
| |
It was a massacre to mourn, but I still stood T A L L and would condemn anyone for these unchained thoughts were once again b•o•r•n.
YOU ARE READING
P.O.E.T.R.Y
PoetryPo•et•ry /poh-i-tree/ noun 1. the art of rhythmical composition, written or spoken, for exciting pleasure by beautiful, imaginative, or elevated thoughts. 2. literary work in which special intensity is given to the expression of feelings and ide...
