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