Spot of Fun

There are different forms of writing It serves to both jot down reminders And to communicate them all The common ground is a need to share Either to self or other specific persons Sometimes it simply is on the walls Yet the whole affair may be a measly thing Especially when it is done for show For the content surely is an indicator What the heart is full of Unfailingly man writes of the relevant Though this is a petrifyingly biased thing And so it comes across as peacock feathers Each time one dabbles with notions to impress Rather than simply getting the message across One is forced to consider all of the options The name is forgotten The person becomes ageless Perhaps one secretely seeks for pity While at the same time for admiration Displaying knowledge mastery and style As of late though I have come To understand the self-defeating nature That comes from trying to make your love mine Perhaps if I said it right I would convince you That dawn and dusk both look great in mist and rain By means of extrapolation maybe I would get you there Alas what is mine is yours and vice versa No matter how much either of us ever write We would always discover this to be true And so I have figuratively stopped stomping my feet Since it is a sad folly in the face of the universe To think myself able to come up with lines novel For these lines I write barely enter me myself What a long shot is it to make an attempt At showing you the color of light in my heart One finds that this yearning to share in any which way To be a sorry form of chasing after the self My guess is that the difference is a good spot of fun

CuldeSac

What are words without understanding and what is understanding without sense?

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