III

“The Beautiful Paradox”

Roses are blue. Violets are red

Maybe the point of living, is to one day be dead

Some may already feel, this way inside

For if this is true, then in them we confide..

As pitiful as it sounds, there is beauty in darkness

For there can be no hearts, without the heartless

Black is white. White is black.

May we create ourselves, as we swerve off the tracks

Up is down. Down is up.

Which is more important? The water? Or the cup?

Sitting down in the pits of self-pity

Feeling only about a hundred minus fifty

The green lines slaughter my works

Into the abyss of my creations, I search and search

Pondering over the true value of college.

Imperfection seems to be the only key to infinite knowledge