I Read on the Internet I Was Dead.

evolve into your own.

i'll take a stroll,

through these ambient nights and,

talk with the sparrows.

these lights are,

just so superfluous and,

they teach the ways of hiding in quartz glasses.

 

who they thought,

was just a jester of song.

is found to be,

the king of music halls.

what i thought,

to be a messenger.

was wrong and,

seemingly disposable.

 

i'll drive through,

foggy fields of highway lines and,

have no headlights on.

the pavement speaks in,

tongues that once thought were lost.

bewildered i sit,

driving oh so content,

on and on and on.

 

who they thought,

was a keeper of the peaceful.

is found be,

the king of all in distortion.

what i thought,

to be a messenger.

was wrong and,

completely indisposed.

 

so i'll stay here,

complacent and melancholy.

with me just,

trees, sky and stones.

can't make peace,

with the wild(night)life.

because they won't speak to me.

 

whether i,

sit, drive or stroll.

just know that,

i'm always here at home.

it's just so hard,

to stay one place at a time.

like singing,

harshly monotone.

where we are,

should be broadcast in bright colors.

'cause i just can't seem to see,

in black and white and gold.

so please don't just,

move around shuffle footed.

take on those,

of higher understanding.

we can't be,

forced to accept this.

it's just a,

silly little battle,

for those who forget to roam.

and if there was more that,

i could do for them.

just know that,

it would mean nothing in the end.

Author's Note

the title of this piece is a quote from one of my favorite musicians, Fiona Apple.

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[Emily B]

a word is dead when it is said

some say