I have been thinking a lot,
And one starts to wonder
if it's all in my head
Or it's all torn asunder.

These Gnarled Roots
Withered from time
Will forever control
Those shoots from reaching
The Shine.

Thick and stubborn
Taking everything of
Worth.
Pillaging the earth of
its fruit
All "in the name of the
Shoot".

We are told
The shoot can't be
A shoot
Without the
Root.
But what about
The "root" of
A problem?

So, little shoot
Chew on the bitter root.
Chew and
Survive.

As we age
Our minds grow and
Our bodies decay;
But, at the end of the day,
They wish it were
The other way.

You've always meant more to
I,
Than I to
you.
And that's what's led us
Askew.

I am no source
of poetry or art;
Music or prose.
I am not your one true love or
Your spring of inspiration.

Sensible,
"Down to earth",
Trustworthy-
Normal.

My passions and
Ambitions are unanimous
to the average class.

Anything I am that's
Good
Is reflected in the surrounding
Mud.

For in the end
it will be the belief
in my
potential
and the hatred
of the
conventional
that kills me.

It is only
when one
is sick and
devoid of it
does one
realise that
all the world's
a love song
And the people
star-crossed lovers.