Wednesday, 21 June 2017

Fools Don't Use Tools

Am I being subliminal,
And are you perceiving,
We are not irrational
In what we are believing.

I am out in the open,
Keeping my mouth shut,
As what was shaken
Is now in a rut.

I'm wet with tears from years
Of suppressing fears,
I was unwell suffering a hell
Of being profound in my hospital cell.

Come around to the euphonious sound
That is heavenly found to be bound
In and around the moat where I gloat
Under a spell of a throttling throat.

My words were daft, I need a raft
To escape this pool of being a fool,
Come hither and weather being together
With whatever writing tools you can muster.

Copyright Andrew Stevenson 21/06/2017

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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