How informal should we dress our emotions-
A sweater and jeans?
A faded shirt and jeans?
A sweatshirt and jeans?
A muscle shirt and jeans?
Oh, the question remains still,
Like the object at rest, with no force interested in acting upon it.
How should we do up this feeling or that?
Do we think of words as anything comparable
to the great architects of our inspirations?
Do our words create two roads?
Are they to speak nevermore?
Do they sit upon a black bough?
I should hardly think so, my friends, I should hardly think so.
We are but grubs...lucky enough to catch the crumb
Scrubbed off a teacher's desk while he fervently read aloud
The words that impassioned him to express his thoughts.
Yes, my friends, we have been beaten, tortured,
bullied, left alone...and other horrible deeds.
Yes, I too hurt, for some unfathomable reason.
Like the confused mealworm who is squished under the boots
of fantastic creatures called humans (who don't feel a thing).
But for God's sake, let's try to cut our strings
and fly farther into the atmospheres of our minds with our thoughts.
Let's see the world for falling leaves and sloth-like clouds.
Let's not be, what's the word?

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