The Real World

If there's one thing I know about this world is that nothings true.
The sky is painted with chipped finger paint, the ocean of the same.
The sun is a useless light buld too light for an office lamp.
The clouds are evaporated sheep, listen closely and you'll hear them.
The stars only fall when the adheasive is sloppy.
Many trees bloom but sometimes they produce nothing, worthless.
The grass blows lazily under natural blades.
The laughter that surrounds us is cliche.
Only important ink is used for poems.
All the rest goes towards school work.
Everything is inaccurate.
You chose what you want to believe.