why isnt it all sunshine and roses

who said we had to settle for

road blocks and white noises

the angst of youth cools

much like a cup of tea

kept at room tempture

and left to adjust

you might want to drink all of it

fixated by compulsion

you might only take a sip

with a less is more aporoach

but enough is enoguh

my selective amesia

made me forget all your names

your faces with diffrent stories

stappled to the back of your head

i walk threw my hall

of terocata warriors

in their rags

with type written pages

museing me to write them all down

the names I dont remeber

and the stories I can never forget

we have all since faught our heroic battles

and let the vastness of our riches spoil

we are the poor, the starving, the desprite

all reaching out

with our hands wanting weight

in some sadistic prayer

in a sea of me’s

I am

as you should be

my prophcies are my legacy

and I leave them there

free

and like most things truely free

it just wonders

looking for a hand to hold it

to sleep beside it

when its raining

and whent the thunder cracks

it squezes out of static

to say I felt it too

I let the puddles fill up

and stand at the edge of my own private ocean

Poseidon of the parking lot

wondering why all the lonley people

stare at the moon

when they are unaware of the company

they are keeping