Spinning round and round,
these circles of indecision prevent my evolution.
This whirlpool of mass destruction
barracades a revolution.
I pick through the peices
for some sort of solution.
I'm sick of playing host to this
relentless intrusion.
This uninvited source
that feeds my confusion.
I can't see the sky
from inside this pollution.
My eyes are blind to a resolution.
and if i could dip a paintbrush into your words, most people would be speechless at the sight.
be seeing you at stewd's again?