I don't know how much more
I can find trust ignoring the lore
That I keep on writing til my fingers are sore

This strange heavy book
with an even stranger look
that a stranger once took

I want to think
that it is full of insightful ink
giving me good reasons to always stay close to the brink

But when my heart grows fonder
today when I catch myself, ponder
my mind only recklessly starts to wonder

And I've been reckless before
my heart and soul given to a false poet who calls me a *****
it tinted my deepest thoughts, it might be blue forevermore

I'm an expert on overthinking
still can't help but drinking
Wonderland's poisons up til I'm shrinking

If I could only say
that on some distant day
I'd learned my lesson not to pray

For you can never know
maybe it's only the gardener, just a poet for show
beware of what he might sow