This poem may be a little confusing and might need some analysis. But I still think it's good, nonetheless.
I just sat there, listenin' to that old sad song,
The droll beat of familiar faces and places,
Love and Romance, Death and Despair, all wrapped up in a crispy tortilla.
I sat and cried a little,
sat and smiled a little,
For all the times that you and I and the sublime,
Lied there motionless, not knowing what to do,
Or where to go, to who to see.
Who are we?
Inside out I ask; I guess it's not too bad, just a prisoner of my own past.
Never knowing, hardly watch, always guessing;
Is it alright? Might I try?
Is this life more than roses and poses?
Trapped within myself, lost in my mind, reaching out to me and you, sitting in time.
Lost in a found memory.
Congratulations Sparky, you did goo.
Now back to the past, than down to the future, sublimity and wonder, all ripped asunder, into this vast world of love and lies, truth and ties.
