Down-doped on wrong pharmaceuticals

Page Goldenboy can see himself from the outside

And the horse he rides

Is a pale white horse

I feel no remorse

Is there anything to be remorseful for

Frustration ventilated galore

And people could care less

What a mess

I left to melt

And the margarine is bubbling

And I feel only troubled

But some people don’t want to hear the same thing over and over

So there might be your four-leaf clover

Trying to get lines to rhyme

No words are dancing lightning genius words sublime

I guess it happens to the best of us

Paranoia starts when you are always afraid watch out for the fuzz

Distrust plenty proved

A lot of fakes moved, to the side

What a mess

And people could care less

<positive word> <positive word> <positive word> <positive word>

<positive word> <positive word> <positive word> <positive word> <positive word>

<positive word> <positive word>

What a mess

I’m referring to the previous two poems

And those tend to speak leave him alone

But I know Sweden is a lot for anti-mobbning

And though the potential material in my head isn’t throbbing

Needs a nodding

Of Ok feeling

When the dust settles, see if any banana is for peeling

I’m not controversial

To be controversial

And not everything is such

Heart-spoken what a rush

I hope I don’t come off as angry

If anything for myself I’m sorry

And people could care less

What a mess

But Page Goldenboy you really did burst on the scene

Knappast a handful of readers on the piece

People may care less

But,

What a mess

A division bell of sorts

My intuition supports