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This poem is a warning.

Poem: Twisted thoughts


At the department of reality

There are no restrictions

Only prescriptions

You can be a moron

But you are still prescribed the same precautions

You can be above madness

But you are still prescribed sunsets and full moons

You can have an IQ far ahead of your time

But you are still prescribed a teacher

You are not the sum of your thoughts

You are the choices you make

From the many colourful threads of thoughts

Why did you choose the twisted ones?

Why did you follow your destructive sense of reality?

Why did you submerge yourself in recklessness?

Twisted thoughts are part of the threads that make reality

But you don’t have to touch them

Like poisonous mushrooms

They are not for consumption

They are there to remind you

Of how rotten reality can be

Not to be your food

Don’t fiddle with them

Or make an omelette out of them

Just stay away from them


©Kenneth Maswabi







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