I am not, I know a far-spread word, my work has lack of meaning.
To call them like recent works would be quite demeaning.
I think back to the times when I first started writing, old memories of old news.
But that doesn't give me the blues, wind that has come by blows and has blew.
I cannot stop writing these words even in madness, discression of the true gladness.
The truth is that skill rises and can be to my own suprise, from the past I will rise.
I may be a liar and a destroyer of things, but there is a happiness that my words may bring.
Others like a dusty old matress with lack of springs, such unpleasant other things.
Such a repetative topic I bring up in these words, such thought comes of no reserve.
Please understand that I may drift away from the title or topic, for there's much I have to say.
Irrelevant matters aside, by my own digression may I abide these words I am to write.
My matter of orrangement is a dreadful sight, in this world has the lack of a normal light.
For am I not to argue upon my own nonsense, I decided while I write not to even fight.
I am not old news, the memories may be;
But I have decided to truly get to know that person I see, the one that I have yet to meet they call "me."
And here I stand as I write this series of words in a pattern, bare with my sense as it is that of a alien from Saturn's.
I am amidst the monsters in a fantasy that shalln't end soon, and I may have caused it without a care as I play over this sad tune.
Reality is never much value in my mind, I am that of a dreaming kind but I am not blind.
I am still so very young, yet I may tell the difference between fake and real.
There is a hope that I not drift among the things that I find far too surreal.
A lock and a key is the easiest seel to it, but I wish to know where goes the puzzle peice called "life" is to fit.
I am a stained in blood of lies, I am chained to the numerous self broken ties.
I am a joker in the card game known as life, I cause my problems and I cause my strife.
I am the writer that tends to be adrift, I am the raincloud that certainly needs a lift.
I am dragging my past mistakes along, and I am the singer of the shadowed raven's song.
I am of the numerous unknown and I am of the strong, I detest the love songs that have gone on for long.
I am the strange child that thinks and talks only among only her, I am a knight to the shadows I may infer.
I am the words that come to you only silent, I am the one that paints this world a peaceful violet.
By @Insanity
