Pity the ChildPity the child(begin with a capital letter, punctuation is key)Chrysalid of humanity(metaphors are effective, remember to keep the beat)Becoming, not complete(added comments in parenthesis must be treated with care)Learning to be...(ambiguity and metafiction add artistic flare)Pity the child, chrysalid of humanityTaught to live inside this world, learning how to be...Becoming an adult, but never quite complete,Learning day by day the skills to keep them on their feetPity the adult, moth of night to comeOnce childhood has flitted past and wilted in the sunCan name a nations capital and knows the offside ruleAnd many other things that they called life skills back in schoolPity the child, born of system into shockOnce life skills fail and cities fall, and numbers lose their stockThe maggot of the dying world consumes this blighted tree-My childhood is gone- and all thats left is brief memories of me.
Can'tI think you've hit rock bottom when you decide there are some things in life you can do.I can I can I canIcanIcancanancancancancancan I canbeaparttimedinosaur.I can, honest, I can makeyoulovemeandlovemenadloveme, I cancancancancan. (maybe I shouldn't, but that doesn't mean it's something I cannot do. I can. Cancancancancancancancan.)icanmakemyheartinto punctuation. (the is something beautiful hidden within dots so small, yet able to contain an entire universe of thoughts and words just by being, don't you think?)(¯`v´¯; `·.¸.·´ (well, okay, so maybe ican't.can-not.cannot.canknot.tyingknotsissomethingi can do.)-'There are some things even you can't save.'Like the Minotaur and an overdose of heroine and the locness monsters you stopped believing in when you saw my plasticine model. Have you ever consider
Unfortunate ThingUnfortunate ThingHere is the tale of Unfortunate ThingWhom I found in our garden shedHes seven foot two, with shiny black noseAnd horns on the top of his headUnfortunate Thing wore a fine suit of scalesWhich hadnt been polished for yearsAll covered in dust and speckles of rustFrom endless showers of tearsReclined on a large sack of compostA vision of gloom and despairAlone in the shadows, sat sobbingNeeding some comfort and carePoor Thing said I, Whats the problem whatever is troubling you?And proceeded to give him a cuddle(
.which proved quite a hard thing to do)Whilst blowing his nose on some sackingStill sobbing, he tried to explainHow his rather unfortunate featuresHad caused all his troubles and painI love all the creatures of nature I love all their beauty and graceBut they all run and hide when they see me arriveBecause of my hideous faceAnd oh, when I look at the flowersMy ugl