There doesn't need to be a title.
sachinc
Posts: 117
There once was a poet called sachinc (pronounces such-in-see)
Who spent his life in misery
He wrote it all down,
Then looked like a clown
And burned the rest of his battery.
And gave up halfway through when he realised that really there was no point in anything being written down as it wouldn't interest anyone. He eventually decided to tell everyone of his extraordinary predicament. The downside of this being that it was nobody's business what situation he was suffering. Eventually he decided to make a list of reasons to live. He got halfway through whan he became so depressed that he went to stand by the window that looks into the garden. There was another thing to add to his list, he had money. But it wasn't really his. Another point for the list. And now he gets judgemental, wondering if he has become everything that he despises (or at least would like to lead everyone to believe he despises). He is middle class, slightly spoilt, arrogant to the point of having a superiority complex, a hypochondriac, a pedant...
He ends the paragraph only because he knows that if it is too thick that no one would ever want to read it. And he also would like people to think that the list goes on when really it doesn't.
But the point is, that he keeps on living. Just as he keeps on typing. Music drives him forward. It has replaced the heart. He runs to Rearviewmirror, cries to Black, gets angry to Killing in the Name, and smiles to Smile.
Don't it make you smile,
When the sun don't shine.
Yes... yes it does.
If you read that, Thank You, and know that it comes from the heart.
If you skipped to the end, who can blame you. Keep on living life, and don't let anyone get in your way.
Sachinc.
Who spent his life in misery
He wrote it all down,
Then looked like a clown
And burned the rest of his battery.
And gave up halfway through when he realised that really there was no point in anything being written down as it wouldn't interest anyone. He eventually decided to tell everyone of his extraordinary predicament. The downside of this being that it was nobody's business what situation he was suffering. Eventually he decided to make a list of reasons to live. He got halfway through whan he became so depressed that he went to stand by the window that looks into the garden. There was another thing to add to his list, he had money. But it wasn't really his. Another point for the list. And now he gets judgemental, wondering if he has become everything that he despises (or at least would like to lead everyone to believe he despises). He is middle class, slightly spoilt, arrogant to the point of having a superiority complex, a hypochondriac, a pedant...
He ends the paragraph only because he knows that if it is too thick that no one would ever want to read it. And he also would like people to think that the list goes on when really it doesn't.
But the point is, that he keeps on living. Just as he keeps on typing. Music drives him forward. It has replaced the heart. He runs to Rearviewmirror, cries to Black, gets angry to Killing in the Name, and smiles to Smile.
Don't it make you smile,
When the sun don't shine.
Yes... yes it does.
If you read that, Thank You, and know that it comes from the heart.
If you skipped to the end, who can blame you. Keep on living life, and don't let anyone get in your way.
Sachinc.
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