Birdcage
Don't you feel as if you're living in a birdcage?
You are not permitted to experience life firsthand.
Dwelling ever in your...
...Birdcage

That wasn't actually a poem, more a spur-of-the-moment thought wave. It does oftentimes feel like that though, doesn't it? It's unfortunate that we have such a rigid school system. It feels like a lot of the time we could just learn from actual life.
Real life.
The kind that isn't in textbooks.
I am reminded of philosophy class. For the first week at least, everything we discussed were things that I had already thought about at length and either answered or deemed irrelevant. Mostly those I had deemed irrelevant.
Why can't I just play life by the rules of reality? You can question reality until you die if you like, I'm not so sure there's any way to escape it short of death and mind-altering drugs. I'd much rather play by the rules and force the game to bend to my will.
Say Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye
But in all honesty here folks, I am re-discovering my will. I'm sure if you're reading this you're probably already aware of the fact that I'm changing my mindset. Becoming more of an optomist. I'm pretty sure that's spelt wrong, but as I don't care we'll leave it be. It's really cool. I didn't realize that I have so much control, so much choice over how I feel. It really all does boil down to choice. You do have the choice. You do.

As for the poetry front: All of it is being comprised into one book. So if you would like to read any others, just ask me for the book/the rose book.

Oh, and thanks Ash for loaning me that book. I just hope it's not aaalll porn. lol. I'm sure it has content.
I leave you with this note:
Change