Look, guys, I’m gonna be honest with you. Sometimes I write bad poetry. And sometimes that bad poetry will end up on here. As a wannabe writer, I feel somewhat ashamed admitting this but this poem formed itself in my head while I was in the bathroom. I won’t go into detail about what I was doing so here is my masterpiece:
There was a man
In a house
On a street
In a town
In the city
Where he lived.
The man dreamed a dream
Of a flying thing
That would take him
Away to a land
In the sky
Where all beings soared.
He was told
Not to hope
As all beings
Had an end
But they would not
End up
In the sky
For all things
Land in their
Rightful place
In the ground.
Such was his hope
That he dared to defy
And stood tall
Two hundred feet
Above the floor
Ready to go.
He jumped
And he flew
And he finally knew
What it was to see
The truth
And be free
For it is better
To die
In clarity
Than to live
To an age
Sans sanity.
The Chronicles of No 