Ichu

Faded looks that don’t glance back,
passed in the hall traveling from,
places needed not have been visited,
not feeling okay.

Foil covers a more sturdy structure,
something they call art,
shines against the faded faces,
maybe they’re not art in the dark.

He told me once,
you’ll make a great this or that,
good thing I listened to him,
don’t want to know what’s worse than this.

Is my life that bad?

Don’t be a fool,
don’t act mad,
I love what I do,
though it’s nothing at that.

Spin, spin like a golden tree,
what does it mean?
If you ask me then I’d think about it,
so chill.

Arrow flies, shoots like the pain of a splinter,
things die, but not because an arrow hit them,
causes unknown, people ask too many questions,
my mind’s blown, so with that this stanza has ended.

The answer is a turtle,
yes, that’s how I will reply.
You ask what it means and I tell you a turtle,
now your heart has sunk and you don’t know why.

The end.

















I’m sorry I lied,
the end would too short if I ended it that way.
So with a proper and unrehearsed line,
I bid you farewell with nothing to do.