what absurd riddle is your reward
see obviously the cup is more than half full
controlled at the ready
falling on the intellectual concrete
I've toiled and trolled
and had the roles reversed
my comments like gold
so damn clever
when comes the wind of disconnection
this substance just weird code
this room is my prison
this mind a cage
creme de la creme body rolls and all
I sit poetically behind a prismatic screen
I love and live in a digital lie
please remember me when the lights start to fade
from LED to black
finally I'll rest I hope
bury me in wires and plug me if you can
I'm the binary of what's become of man
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
