Lost and FoundPhilosophical
I'm starting over with a clean state.
Ignoring the disrespect, so I'm straight.
So glad I'm over the blind hate.
Arguing with myself, but why must I debate.
I'd never thought of anything, but the present.
Thoughts tainted like the smell of decaying resin.
I've been lost and found, but I'm back.
The loss of my muse hurts like a critical heart attack.
My words are crazy like a babbling deranged psychopath.
I don't need feedback, just sit back and listen to my poetic wrath.