give me an ear to bite into,
or an arm to rip of
listen to my rambles
the ravings of a mud-mad-madding-mad-man
I've lost it
kaput
I'm InSAnE
My mind is lost to the soup
and I was Always told that too many cooks spoil the broth
and legions have gone into making me
If I could number the souls that have had input to me,
the men and woman who maned the turnstile and warped my soul
to fit flowers or knives,
if I could number them all I alone could stand and take on
Persia at its height
my soul is ancient
passed from one body to the next my eyes are tired
but I'm only 17
I've sat through temperature-twisted-townlessly-teetering deserts
on the roof of an old combie
I've walked circles around an island with my thumb out
and sung to the stars when they hide in clouds of smoke
the legeion in my mind has taken losses in numbers
when we lost our commander
my father
and we have taken our trophies of irrefutable wealth
your heart
but then i remember there wasn't thousands of men
just me
just my ambition
Good morning world
Im 17 years old,
And all-ready ancient