What the heck was I on?
So I found an old notebook in my closet this morning. It's been in there for at least five years, since I was in high school, and still mostly empty. So I figure, "why not?" and took it out to use as my new scribble-book for my stories. On the last page with any writing on it, I found an old poem (and I'm using the word very loosely here) that I must have written, probably as a rough draft for a school assignment.
Untitled
Good looks and charm
With attitude
Aren’t worth beans
At 2:00 am
Incredibly annoying human
If you could
Blow your eyeballs out -
You psychotic savage!
- Uh oh.
I made it.
I meant to do that.
When he falls off,
Keep score.
I honestly have no idea how I managed to write something so rambly and distrubing. I showed it to a couple of my coworkers today; one of them mentioned that it sounded like something that had been written at two in the morning. The other found it shocking, but liked the words and mentioned it looked like it would be fun to read out loud (I begged him not to - there were young children nearby).
I'm kind of scared that this is my creative epitome.