Digging through your tangles
I see how shallow my roots are.
Who crafted this button,
As if for me...
Random,
I question this...
Why are their so few of us,
And what constitutes acceptance into this cult?
How did I get in, was it just that I didn't leave?
Random,
Like the swell of fresh faces each evening,
However much vitriol or saccharine needed to be purged,
It takes a poet to write well.
It takes a mad man to wish to write each day.
It takes a mad poet to write well each day,
I guess you could say
There is a no sane poets clause.
Random,
Thoughts sparked thoughts,
Yet, not random,
All interconnected.
I couldn't find the bottom of this place if I tried...
My roots are far too shallow.