People always tell me this poem isn’t quite finished.
People say, it seems like you’ve let your thoughts just sort of taper off...
Well, besides the fact that that’s the whole point of the poem I’m about to unfold I whole heartedly agree with them.
So, maybe you’ve given up hope.
Maybe you’ve told yourself, well I’m gonna be alone forever
Nobody wants me
But if I can just be real with you for a moment
Your generation, OUR generation
The girls spend their time looking for a prince
And the boys they spend their time searching for that princess
The key, is that although not all of them may look like royalty
None of them truly have to be
And truly you most likely haven’t seen the possibility of the tapastry I’ve been weaving
Let alone the facts it’s concealing
So you can save your practiced apathy
And actually, no I’m not seeing anyone at the current time
I don’t really want to be
And I don’t say that out of modesty
And I don’t say that for society
Honestly I’m not sure why I say it at all
I guess you could call me overly intellectual,
but I don’t really see the point in ineffectual relationships with women,
because the thoughts cloud my brain box,
and my heart blocks my train of thought,
because after all it’s the wars we fought that makes us different right?
It’s the arguments and sour tastes left in our mouths that means we’ll last.
Right?
I never know what to say when someone says that to me
The pause after the long heartstring they’ve tossed my general direction,
hoping I can tug on it to put them back in tune,
but is it really a chord at all if each string sings the same note?
After all, it’s benjamin franklin who said it best
Only a fool does the same thing twice and expects different results
I’m not saying don’t go searching for love because it’s far from a lost cause
But rather if your hands are sore from singeing don’t put on a glove
But rather if you’ve caught a case of bronchitis Don’t eat tortilla chips
It hurts
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
People always tell me this poem isn’t quite finished.
People say, it seems like you’ve let your thoughts just sort of taper off...
Well, besides the fact that that’s the whole point of the poem I’m about to unfold I whole heartedly agree with them.
So, maybe you’ve given up hope.
Maybe you’ve told yourself, well I’m gonna be alone forever
Nobody wants me
But if I can just be real with you for a moment
Your generation, OUR generation
The girls spend their time looking for a prince
And the boys they spend their time searching for that princess
The key, is that although not all of them may look like royalty
None of them truly have to be
And truly you most likely haven’t seen the possibility of the tapastry I’ve been weaving
Let alone the facts it’s concealing
So you can save your practiced apathy
And actually, no I’m not seeing anyone at the current time
I don’t really want to be
And I don’t say that out of modesty
And I don’t say that for society
Honestly I’m not sure why I say it at all
I guess you could call me overly intellectual,
but I don’t really see the point in ineffectual relationships with women,
because the thoughts cloud my brain box,
and my heart blocks my train of thought,
because after all it’s the wars we fought that makes us different right?
It’s the arguments and sour tastes left in our mouths that means we’ll last.
Right?
I never know what to say when someone says that to me
The pause after the long heartstring they’ve tossed my general direction,
hoping I can tug on it to put them back in tune,
but is it really a chord at all if each string sings the same note?
After all, it’s benjamin franklin who said it best
Only a fool does the same thing twice and expects different results
I’m not saying don’t go searching for love because it’s far from a lost cause
But rather if your hands are sore from singeing don’t put on a glove
But rather if you’ve caught a case of bronchitis Don’t eat tortilla chips
It hurts
Request permission to use this poem