Here are some poems, composed by a puppet,

some are my own and some of them not.

You can like one, or quite like them all,

or simply not like them a hell of a lot.


x



Tuesday 24 April 2012

Spectrum Disorder

Look at life
through a twisted prism
and the colours come out wrong.
Red's violet
and the orange is yellow;
while the green's completely gone.

There's only one,
a single shade -
that still rings faintly true.
It's the tone you'll find
at the bottom of the ocean;
a deepest, darkest blue.

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