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.

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nightlight1220's picture

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. "


Beavis's picture

Good poem! Your portfolio is

Good poem! Your portfolio is very interesting! I look forward to reading more! ;-)

rjnmhrjn's picture

Thanks a lot Beavis...

Thanks a lot Beavis...

allets's picture

What A Jewel In Writing

Just reread this jewol. My fallacies are irreproachable. There are mine and I'm sticking to them. :D