This is what I've been failing to see for the entirety of my existence-
I am nothing more than a consciousness trapped in a painting,
doomed to remain motionless;
staring at the enormous window
that I had never really seen before
for an eternity.
And my "life"?
Nothing but a dream.

This fat British fellow.
His much inflated ego, rolls across the grass masked ground.
Eternally on the level, never obese, just jolly rotund.
Always gets given a present, the noble order of the boot.
Out for rough and tumble, very thick skinned always full of hot air.
Jolly good sport, a **** good catch.
Goes up in a volley or down on the beach.
Amend his waist, change his shape, abuse him for rugger.
After the match, can be a right ***** ******.
Anyone for tennis, a game for two on the court.
Snooker or a maybe good game of pool,
Silly poet lady, she talks a load of *****,can't get enough of playing the fool.
(c) LIVVI