In a world so complex and confusing,
Scribbled is a mind, unclear how to think.
Like the testudo, pointing in all directions at once,
Like water that splashes then settles in a sink.

Painful tendrils that dig deep into your self worth,
Controlled and influenced by corporate drivel.
A few words of valor and temporary treasure,
Back to the mines of frivol, completely civil.

The fire that your 8 year old self carried
Left an urn of all that makes you whole.
Where’s the catalyst that can make you burn blue?
Maybe there really isn’t any milk for my cereal bowl.