Journal

Insomniac's Journal

Words birthed in the internal

His subconscious' dunk-tank

These words remained unranked

Articulate the contemplations

Of these waking frustrations

Pen in hand

Sleep be damned

These are the greatest thoughts in the land

But why do they come at 4 in the morning

Must write them down

And heed the warning

His memory won't serve him as well when he wakes

If only he knew what was at stake

Words, Words, and more still left to come

Cannot stop till he sees the sun

Sunken eyes

Blood shot red

Sleep finally comes to the walking dead

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Out of Place

I am a giant
In a world of Davids
Rock to the head makes me feel slated
Immortally wounded
Words cut deep
Skin of steel makes me feel complete
Tiresome antics
From my unfamiliars
Their taunts have become
Quite peculiar
Sweet disregard becomes my savior
Turn a blind eye to their behavior
Ruler of the world for only one day
Accept my decree
Then fade away

To become a legend
A testament to the ages
The wisdom of a monk
One of many sages
No longer out of place
No longer out of line
It seems that this giant's gonna' be just fine


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