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Tool
They call me by a name
and look for my responses
Now and then I have my vitals checked
and been told I haven't yet lost the senses
Disturbed and demented,
I often lose my cool,
I'm a tool.
My day is but their part of business
My hours they tick and sweep my dreams away
With active fingers and eyes and toes I toil
Breathing yes but lifeless I lay
Fallacy rules my head
Everyone's favourite fool,
I'm a tool.
With chunks of conflicting grey cells
I try to express I try to see
They convince me everything's fine
With their ideas; frail and flimsy
Stupidity par excellence,
We divide and they rule,
I'm a tool.
I like it!
thank you for sharing this. good piece.
peace.. :-)
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "
Good poem! Your portfolio is
Good poem! Your portfolio is very interesting! I look forward to reading more! ;-)
Thanks a lot Beavis...
Thanks a lot Beavis...
What A Jewel In Writing
Just reread this jewol. My fallacies are irreproachable. There are mine and I'm sticking to them. :D
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