Poetry – The Puzzle Man

I’m so in love with what kills me
I’ve become the scarecrow of my own muse
As I command armies which bow to me
I feel sorry so I let them loose
As the puzzle man pieces together the mind of God
The closer he gets the further he’s gone
No longer do I enjoy the things I once did
For my heart is to big for my chest to fit
As I continue to watch the world burn
With hose in hand and nozzle to turn
I wonder why no water pours from this tap
So that I may save those who still nap
I’m so sad too often and I know exactly why
For the wings of birds are meant to fly
As I lay here playing by their rules
Knowing how they cheat grin and drool
This game I play grows rather old
The world no longer feels of home
The things in which used to drive me
Have become the enemy in which binds thee
I hold the key in which fits the lock
Yet I’m unable to breath and scream for my flock
So the puzzle man continues to play
Puzzling away his busy day
Still waiting for the world to turn
No longer wishing to see birds burn

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