Scribbling Chaos

[Guest guest]

I scribble chaos

on the canvas of life

with finger paint dipped

into a pool of memories...

 

I still wonder what life might be like

without all the gravity

of the past...

 

I heard the voice

of my pretend mystic

tell me that I am the Holy One,

yet again...

 

But going by

the actions my idol executes,

I can't believe that farce,

he might be right,

but still he's a fraud...

 

I scribble wisdom

on the canvas of sound.

 

Those who hear

think that they are found.

 

I've got news for them

they might not hear...

 

My scribbled wisdom

is a reflection of their fear...

 

So in the end

who is one to believe?

 

I could tell you,

but that would make me

a liar...

 

If you trust in the above

you'd be just as lost

as those damned to below...

 

In another end

(there's as many as infinity)

someone may begin to understand.

 

There's still a ton of fools

who say you are It,

 

but all of them have failed to remember

that if I need to know to begin with

that's a recipe for disaster.

 

I may as well tell you

that you are exactly

who you think you are...