Thoughts of... what?

I always thought poetry was a cliché way of getting your thoughts out, who needs it?

Roses are red,
Violets are blue;
A lame clichéd form of expressing oneself
And look, I'm an artist!

How do I expect anyone else to understand me when the the door to my mind is locked and not even I possess the key?

I feel like I have touched death recently and in some ways have lost what little innocence may have remained inside me. Anger and disappointment have engulfed me and yet I am enjoying myself in general.

Does anyone actually give a damn? Maybe, there could be one person out there whose entire satisfaction in life is finding out what I give a shit about. I feel like I go to bed unfulfilled on a nightly basis yet I accomplish so much. It's probably just what I tell myself in order to stop the insanity from taking over. I think it would be much better that way... insanity, why the hell not?

I'll write a song about it, then I'll really establish myself as a bleeding heart, "wow, it has emotions" they'll say as they watch my imagination prowl its cage like a hungry tiger waiting to escape. If dreams that should torment don't, what does that say of the mettle of the person dreaming them?

Dreams... Well at least they entertain me and why not? Someone should appreciate the amount of thinking and obsession with mundane things my mind undertakes on a daily basis. Rather be obsessive than blind to the fact that the puzzle which is this world isn't something any grade-schooler could put together.

I'll write a short story about it, what better way to show the world how I over-evaluate myself. Shoot a film, pretend I have talent. Talent? What a stupid word... dogs have talent when it comes to barking, what a joke. People have talent when it comes to oversimplifying and overcomplicating their lives all at the same time.

I'll write a blog about it, that way I'll feel like I'm not alone. We all are, we just do it together.