Emptying containers filled with collectables and such.
Things I'd rather keep invisible
collectively ask to much.
The body is a home.
The heart an attic
and
the brain is just a basement, filled with good intent.

Simple feelings repetitive at most,
of
lovely circumstance, something that we boast.
The pleasure is mine the pleasure is yours,
a
lucky group we are, our biggest hindrance is chores.
I'm not a fan friends, a lot of people make me sick.
I'm not really into family, but I don't knock it if it's thick.
Yet today of everyday people swear to me that they,
remembered this occasion, without Facebook displayed.

I AM NOT A VILLAIN.
Yet I am equally as evil.
The deed is deadly
and
acceptance is permission.
I AM....the door man?

They run.
They walk.
They drive.
They drown.
They complete numerous complexities to gather numbers for statistics that record your wonderful records.
I frown.

People crowd my bubble like braces invade personal teeth space.
Solely little objects with thin frames no lace.
Simply little objects with small hearts, some grace.
All in all were nothing special,
just men and women rotting for a root canal.

Water ripples and metal clangs,
against my stones throw.
The rock can weather me? Oh what an ironic chunk of destiny.
But if I remain to dampen my roots,
two boots in size they'll grow.

I've never been to fond of anything really,
especially coated in chocolate.
However ill gladly dance around and around after I've eaten the sugar a bit.