Is that still you sitting on a bul
Or am i just dreaming, maybe
Not a bull after-all or is it a ho
Am i just whinnying,
Is that the end of the road

Life is a maze
and death Is the way out.

I do not blend in with crowds
but with might i could desperately
In a pub filled with crowds; this
and in a rave filled with parks; t
but in an open space with one and

There are sweetness in his blazing
Admiration of kind mind that winds
So, why halt? when the symphony
Of grasp still commence,
I can see the shadow line of where

Oh God
What would
Do
Without
My hands,

You would
Notice I
Always
Use I
Before you,

Words should be plain
And simple
But always jumping
Down in style.

I am doing
Good
For just
A bedroom
Writer

Today is never as lifeless like da
Was meant to be; the woods are idl
And birds pestering a harmless tre
And the squirrels knitting fiercel
And different people walking throu

They are not bragging
Or that many
I could easily fish them out
For now.