Dedicated
I thrive upon being vague,
I suppose it’s something to do.
It releases me from the infinite plague
That never ceases to be you.
And yeah you’re causing me problems again,
So i pretend you’re probably not there.
Released from responsibility for my actions
By forcing myself to never care.
What am I thinking?
Or am i thinking at all?
My boat can’t possibly be sinking.
The water is just minutely tall.
There was a man who burned his hand,
And blamed it on the stove.
He subsequently buried it in the sand
And far away he drove.
In a new house he now resides.
His previous wife has long since died.
And longing for years that will never come
From his new life,
He only fails to hide.
-Anonymous
-Chad