Why are you the way you are?
Is it because of randomness?
Is it because you have a purpose?
Is it because the world built you to survive?
Is it to learn the nature of everything, through your mistakes?
Why are you the way you are?
Ask that question.
Please.
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The Flying Ship
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Who I am on face value:
- Joel Macbeth
- Australia
- I am only a slave poet And my chains are those that are worn like armor By the most foolish dictators idols to their own grotesque Bury me with my flute, a knife, coins on my eyes And say you knew I was unrepentant
Blog Archive
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2012
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March
(29)
- Broken Body
- Meh.
- My Sin Is Envy
- Life.
- The Friends Of Mr. Cairo
- Born Again.
- Ridiculous Ideas That Turned Out Great
- Text To Jenni Out Of Context
- Mortal
- The Heart of a Beast
- I Really, Really Love This.
- Knots And People And People-Knots
- Of Me.
- The knowing?
- In Defense Of Hate
- Are You A Cyborg?
- And Nothing
- Think Fading Flesh.
- The Dragging Transparent
- Ticking clock.
- Ulcer.
- One Day
- Minds At Night.
- Six Hundred And... One!
- What You Used To Know
- The Best and The Worst
- Honor and Importance.
- The Choice Is Yours.
- Exceptional
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March
(29)
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