As my finger touches the button, I realise
I’ve nothing to write. Should I write a love song
for someone who doesn’t exist? Or should
I get really high and Share my dreams with you?
No.
I suppose I can criticize my government or I can retell
some religious scripture .Maybe I can explain
to you the power of nature and the
dangers of the wild. I can probably tell you of an epic
hero who conquered evil to save the Danes.
But I won’t.
Because she can’t hear my song if she was never
there, and my dreams have no Rime.
True, while my divided government is flawed and I
have no sight in the divine, nature is my friend,
except when the pipes burst. And why
hear the same tale over and over and over,
when I can link up online and engage in a team
deathmatch, where my hero is myself
and I get the girl.
Thats it! I’ll write for myself. Who cares about
anybody else?
This is about me.
This is my era.
This is my Tweet.