Didn't Work

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
What can I say.

Submitted: April 18, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 18, 2016



My best laid plan, my master-piece, my Van Gogh I should say

At the end not a penny

I learned, I can't forced nature to act like my puppet, oh no

Did I regret it? Of course, still am, still damn headache, damn hand-cuffs

And I slept till I awoke, I walked till sig-sag

And I was happy, then mad took over, I controlled myself thou

Controlling, I hate to be control, self-control is a plus or face consequences

Is hard to be free, is harder to touch, to count, when pillow is uncomfortable

Necessity is the mother of invention", Plato, right?

I wonder if that truth, on me, didn't work.

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