Logic Poem by aric wilsie

Passive couch pain
Resting on assurance
That your sun
Your moon
Is watching
Wondering where you are
Why you are not more awake
Even though it's late
And the night has sputtered
Morning more or less
Now your pride
Prevents rest
And yet
Foretells unrest
A long day
Of labor
Tired
Hung over yourself
Knowing it could all
Be diffrent
If anything did'nt go
When the bygone
Has gone
By the way
And absolute tragedy
Makes a mockery
Of cold hearted babies