For lack of anything better to do -
For the sake of my spinning head
For the chance to find a better view
For consolation when I'm dead
I'll try to write something new
Something I've never said
Write it all in spite of you
Or give it all to you instead
Eight years now, and they ask me why -
As if I could just quit
Eight years gone, still I try
To make something they won't forget
No matter what, life will pass me by
Why shouldn't I spend it
On all these words thrown at the sky
My dear, I know - it's only an octet
Only and perpetually just poetry
Thrown against the page
Matters not to anyone but me
If my thoughts won't cease to rage
They swirl and swarm incessantly
Though I trap them in this cage
Is it worth the time to stop and see -
Alas, that's not for me to gauge
But for lack of anything better to do
For the sake of my wandering soul
For the chance to find a different view
As a way to challenge or console
I'll try to write something new
Something to make me whole
Write it all just for you
Or just for you to pass by as you scroll
Well that certainly was different from the rest. It couldn’t be your best as that is yet to come.
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