02-09-2011, 12:13 AM
Black and white pictures of a po-faced young man
litter the columns in each college square.
Placed always just above my headline,
his features loom down like a stern mother's.
On the bus I trudged through sewers of despair,
dull ache in one ear and a bloated stomach;
the world is brimming with sadness,
a thought which won't let my Shreddies digest.
Now, staring at the photograph,
I realise I hate that young man.
litter the columns in each college square.
Placed always just above my headline,
his features loom down like a stern mother's.
On the bus I trudged through sewers of despair,
dull ache in one ear and a bloated stomach;
the world is brimming with sadness,
a thought which won't let my Shreddies digest.
Now, staring at the photograph,
I realise I hate that young man.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe