Some of the ideas that form in my head
has come to a point of misconception
I recall the items when life was a bowl of spagets and meatballs
will I make sense of the following days
as a wandering mime dances away
in a field of observations
no one will bear witness
to the crime that I call my life
which is not the tragedy I once sought after
but the cataclysmic entertainment of choices other people make
entertaining my eyes a mouthful of delight
I watch a blank wall painting a mental picture
of a field with roses swaying amongst the summers breeze
of a world once forgotten
but of a past now remembered
dwelling upon such desires can only scare fate away
can I be the one who death will avoid at all costs
due to the unstable nature of my personality
I write this once again
on a fading keyboard
while the letters of a strange
alphabet leap to my fingertips
~ J
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