Fictional-Reality-Me

You're on the radio listening to 623 Just sitting there and wearing your lucky tee You never notice me watching you I'm in my tent. It's an ordinary Friday night I'm cleaning my bazooka til it's polished bright Just thinking on what I could possibly do But he wears short pants. I cause big bangs He's a pekopan and I'm just a KERON Dreaming bout the day when you wake up and see That I could be what you want me to be I know you see all the things I've done for you. Isn't that enough so I can make you see you belong with me, you belong with me Walking the basement with you and your angry face It's a sign that there's trouble in the

Strange people visited my home Skin white like snow I told dad someone was there He opened the door without a care They just went in as if they were friends One kissed me and licked my neck I knew that something was wrong Then they all grew teeth that are long I ran to the kitchen with candles and garlic Turned on the stove and lit candles to make them sick They drew closer and I struck the flame in their belly But this didn't work so I thought in a hurry I saw the stove's open flame Then, bashed their heads there without a shame I saw their faces burn bright That was really a traumatic sight Then, I awoke, realizing it was a

There lay a blank canvas He picks up his brush and paint He sits down from all the hardwork And dips his brush on the palette His brush dances on the white background Leaving a trail of colors behind; Blues, grays and a lot more All of different shades and tones. When he finished his sky painting, He hangs it outside his home. With every new work he does, People ignore its beauty. But I stop, look and smile I give him a thumbs up every time.