All lemons grow sweet as time flies,
Yet there's a constant in the past traces of mice
- one wrong step, forever sketched out,
No one will ever forget what it was about.
One misstep, a slip of the tongue,
Yet it has made you to remain in the wrong.
What was the last time you gained some trust?
Once a social butterfly, now, you awaken bloodlust.
Your mind like a late-evening firefly,
You flicker until you realize another lie;
Why'd someone wait for you to improve?
The car crash of ideas is the realm in which you move.
YOU ARE READING
A phone book
PoetryA loose continuation of A Few Hysterical Words, this time focused on character descriptions.
