Poison Pen

Just breathe along to the pollutants of our time. 
Brains so scrambled can't even find a rhyme 
Maybe someday I'll make up for lost time.
Creative minds are lazy and rarely amused 
Thoughts get hazy then I become confused.
The words have escaped my poison pen for now,
I know it will all come back to me somehow.
They always do,
God willing they always will.
God willing my diction will break on through,
Til I grow old and ill and it gets to painful to write.
Blow my ashes out of a cannon like Hunter S did that night.
Death is around the corner sometimes I fear,
I'm getting older and older sometimes I wish it would just get here.

Just breathe along to that sweet scent of nicotine.
Throw morals to the wind and live my life as a libertine.
Maybe someday I'll learn to clean up my act,
But realising the consequence is something I always lacked.
The words have escaped my poisoned pen this time.
But I know someday  it will return even more refined. 
They always do,
God willing they always will.
God willing the thoughts will make it through.
Til I grow old and ill  and forget just  what to do 
Blow my ashes out of a cannon like hunter s did that night.
Death is creeping up I swear it's in my sight,
I'm getting older and older and nothing seems right.



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