(7) Structured Development:
Be it as it may, the icy patch of power, upon the great totem tower, to fall a gory death, and uncounted goes the last breath...
(Condescending Man): "Well, well. Your earth shattering wisdom was cost for loss."
I can't, I mean, I must. The branch must sprout, not to shrivel and gout. For a leaf to grow, and hide from snow, the colors must show.
(Condescending Man): "Wordless? Figures a genuine next generation genius is doomed to empty headedness."
The tree is asymmetrical, the superiority reigns, but in the end, feigns-
(Condescending Man): "Heh. Proving my statement further. Please, you're a tease. You see, your system must lean by structured development, and must kill dreams of elopement."
*Bus pops and honks*
My dread, why must it be said? My hopes, why must it hang by ropes? I, please, must I...?-
(Angry Middle aged Woman): "Get the hell on! You little fawn, I can't wait till dawn!"
Forced unto submission, the feeling of brain division, is to be exposed to nuclear fission. Will we worry? How high hurry? Oh yes, always.
(Fat Kid): "Pathetic, burn this disaster, and be sure to be apathetic. *laughter" kill it faster!"
We are gravestones we aren't fit for golden thrones, the building of structured development is yet a mystery. Who is seated upon the red cushion? A pretentious peer, pelted with powers, a concept, seemingly beyond our perception.
(Fat kid): "This kid must be retarded!"
*Violence, screaming and laughter*
Beaten, and to have my dignity eaten. Mother, father, I know you care. Mother, father, you'll always spare.
Mother... Father... Are you there...?
YOU ARE READING
Cervical Cogitationum
PoesíaTranslates to "Pillow of Thoughts" in Latin. An autobiographical poetry conceptual album. Tells the story of my past, and reasonings for introversion. I seek nothing but to tell a story, and to get what has gone untold off of my chest. The pillow of...
