What a life!
To be surrounded by lonely, sad walls
Of one-room house in nowhere,
Thinking of nothing but still thinking.
Stifled emotions and thoughts building up inside.
What a life!
To be split into two hated halves:
One, spoiled and restless.
The other becoming, blurred and upset.
The horse is ready for a long gallop
To the unknown, to the bush.
Piaget, after a long way down the road,
Has a short nap in the first set of the saddle,
Dreaming of seeing a new paradise in the sand.
Had he known, he’d have surely screamed:
“It’s not for there! That’s not what I meant
That’s not what I meant at all!”
Brunner, consciously, is wondering about
What to tell and what to show;
To ride or to burn it all.
Maslow is striding so slow,
Sympathising and supporting: “Be a caring fellow.”
The Net is neatly squeezed in
As a decorative spanner of the next game.
Blindly, the horse headed forward,
Aware he will need another saddle over there.
To be surrounded by lonely, sad walls
Of one-room house in nowhere,
Thinking of nothing but still thinking.
Stifled emotions and thoughts building up inside.
What a life!
To be split into two hated halves:
One, spoiled and restless.
The other becoming, blurred and upset.
The horse is ready for a long gallop
To the unknown, to the bush.
Piaget, after a long way down the road,
Has a short nap in the first set of the saddle,
Dreaming of seeing a new paradise in the sand.
Had he known, he’d have surely screamed:
“It’s not for there! That’s not what I meant
That’s not what I meant at all!”
Brunner, consciously, is wondering about
What to tell and what to show;
To ride or to burn it all.
Maslow is striding so slow,
Sympathising and supporting: “Be a caring fellow.”
The Net is neatly squeezed in
As a decorative spanner of the next game.
Blindly, the horse headed forward,
Aware he will need another saddle over there.
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