life will be groping
my mind, moping
by a side and roping
it to roof-rack.
wee We're eloping
while you're scoping
this oddity, His oddity
is gently soaping
his odd mask, doping
your wine glass, coping
with his oddness.
Nobody else will solve my problems
a bullet might or bloody quantum
future, mixed precise or perhaps random
Uncertain maths with solutions phantom.
Digging out my knife and chisel.
I'm chiseling out the little weasel
and cutting in it's place something devisal
or devil, anything better than heart-measles.
As you asked, I took the wholesale chill pill
Now I am on top of world, physically ill
vomiting positivity, flaunting words worth nil.
yeah! I'm cool and composed but what's the bill?
Stuffing in the gory and grime, living in prime
like pilgrim of time, mime I expressions and lines
I learnt in movies and shows prime time, I rhyme
words that cut as swords, asking is life mine?
Hope I'm never
loud. Are you
on? are you
This is my day 87 entry of the 100 days of poetry by @d-pend from SteemitSchool.
If you like what I'm doing here, help me out to get me some visibility and add me to your steemvoter or bring me a @curie vote like @rasamuel did which @f3nix thought I deserved and supported me through frustration. It's been more than four month of this.