These Paranoid Illusions torturing you
Burning your Heart of Rust
And the Piper's charmed flute is calling you
As your Echoes of Pain silence us
We look on our Inner Reflections
As our Princess takes leave for awhile
Glance at our misled Deceptionz
For our Peach will not grow in denial
Through our Lucid Search for Divinity
We ignore our Autumn Bliss
While Star Drifting for an eternity
The Wheezer wakes us with a hiss
We wrote as Ophelia was Drowning
And as we told Del ta go
Now we wait for Porphyria's re-crowning
And continue to speak from the soul
This poem is dedicated to all the poets I've met online. Each word that is capitolized and shouldn't be is one of their names.
Chris Townsend
May 22 1999
