Leafy Bones

Thursday, 26 January 2012

Inky eyed reflection

I hate to say "you're right"
so I wont.
My life is a ticket for an empty showing,
thousands of masterpieces
that aren't worth knowing,
My eyes can't be trusted,
and especially after a glass of two,
neither can I.
Vodka made me brag for singing
but the truth came out
when I said I'd lost my voice in a fight with a bull.
I hate to say "you're right"
because it is so miserably wrong;
to be made for writing
and writing made from pain.

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