Something like a phenomenon.

This is just a quick poem I wrote in an exam last Friday while I should have writing up a marketing essay. Procrastination at it's best.

It can be an eye in the sky,

A bird ready to fly,

A fluttering of wings,

Or a trail of some things;

- Crumbs on the floor

  That lead to a door

Where you'll find a cauldron 

That's boiling and coiling

Thoughts into a spring

Ready to jump at you

And devour your soul

Pulling you into a meandering pit

Of mixed feelings and emotions,

Brewed into a potion

Of,

One,

Last,

Hit.

It doesn't make any sense at all. But that doesn't matter, really. Most of what I say doesn't make sense anyway- Ah the joys of individualism and deviance :) ..I shall get back to the wondrous world of studies and studying.

Peace and Love, bitchesss.

Torii out!

xoxo