Made of plastic, with painted doll eyes; drawn with care not to blink when they lie.
Pseudo-silk still feels so smooth; and when it's worn it tends to soothe.
The real picture's sad but true; it was really painted in Van Goah's blues.
Shades of red to illustrate rage; mix into purple then fade into grey.
Like Humble, this is an exercise I did to try to relax, and stop trying to force myself to rhyme in everything I write. Let me know what you think.
We'll always need someone to hate; just to justify our faults.
Bashing the bottom rung of the ladder; eventually we'll have to fall.
From the bottom to the top sounds good at first; in the end even god gets blamed.
Renovation can never end; until we're all left in the dust.
This is just an exercise I did; for some reason, I seem to force myself to rhyme in my writing, even when it hurts the piece. So, I decided to relax a little, and try writing without rhymes. Let me know what you think.
I have never cared for pampering; it'll be the end of society.
I've never been a fan of gluttons; stuff your face just to take.
The selfish are a downfall; just blackholes never to be filled.
Be content with what you have; you probably don't deserve it.
This was done for the same reason as Fire Burns Up and Humble; let me know what you think.
Wad together enough paper; eventually you'll have a house. But no matter how many bricks you use; you'll never be able to clothe yourself. Whoever said quality over quanity; has never seen an army of peasents. Even water, so passive, so safe; will eventually drown you, and wash away the body.