The only drawback of making poems with words of the magnetic variety is that they always sound so fucking deep and meaningful. The challenge is to make them actually MEAN something.
The first two are the ramblings of an old man who has had a stroke. The second two are of the deep meaningful variety.
It’s funny:
My life would read
In words
If not for
A good brainbleed.
If my body could move
There is a climb in this head.
I’d step; then go.
I fight to speak instead.
The Angel I dream of
Is a puppet
Played by a man
That is me.
She is strange and sweet
maybe good.
is the spider.
I see only girl
am a boy.
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