I learn that I know nothing.
This is some lame poem I wrote a long time ago, it doesn’t have the same meaning for everyone, or so it seems, but isn’t that sort of the point of many poems anyway? Read it, criticize it.
Endemic Home
Prodromic life is for me
Every symptom in life scene's
Predominately encumbers
With dramatic, traumatic schemes
An endemically sick living
With others engulfing the show
And all of life’s best clips
Broadcasting for all to know
Dying for the best popularity
To get the best lives with lies
Create a fake painting
Of their conceived cries
To act as if in pain
To seem as though hurt
Image of plane insane
With the fake blood on their shirts
A reality made too friable
Never meant to be surreal
Just to be incredibly normal
Indulged with a true seal
12/01/2003
Endemic Home
Prodromic life is for me
Every symptom in life scene's
Predominately encumbers
With dramatic, traumatic schemes
An endemically sick living
With others engulfing the show
And all of life’s best clips
Broadcasting for all to know
Dying for the best popularity
To get the best lives with lies
Create a fake painting
Of their conceived cries
To act as if in pain
To seem as though hurt
Image of plane insane
With the fake blood on their shirts
A reality made too friable
Never meant to be surreal
Just to be incredibly normal
Indulged with a true seal
12/01/2003