This poem is a warning.
Poem: Twisted thoughts
At the department of reality
There are no restrictions
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
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