I hear a voice ring loud and clear
And I look around quite in fear
That perchance it might be mine.
What is this strange young thing I have found?
— It really is quite strange —
But there it lies in this noisy city on the ground
Waiting for a change.
You see, I found it in the Windy City
(my parents had long gone fled)
It was either that or starve.
How else was I to be fed?!
The months before were pretty,
But high school with the same old people
Was like trying to carve
On an age old steeple.
Oh the horror of carving on an age old steeple
That fulfilled its purpose forevermore.
Why change a thing in the institution,
When those kids didn’t know what anything was good for?
So I stayed quiet.
Till I found myself on a busy street corner
Spinning round and round in the madness
Of an art student’s heyday of
Nightless sleeps because
Nothing nothing nothing
Is as it seems of an art student’s work
Because a billion
meanings come from each stroke of creativity they relate
To their lives and yours,
Though they don’t mean to say any of it at all.
They just like glitter.
What is sleep?
Because I had no clue,
I was in too deep
To even say the sky was blue.
Though the sky isn’t blue you fool
because of some scientific mumbo jumbo I can’t relate
In my mind’s pool
Of forgotten dates.
So I stay up another night
And forget what water is
To win another fight
With coffee at my side.
Last week I heard a voice ring loud and clear
And I looked around quite in cheer
To find that it was mine.