Green Apples

something abstract about today
i destructively made
wisdom decisions
about never ahead.

will my eyes shut today
with no worries inside?
or shall the ghost rise
through clouds
and darkness
and copied lines?

there are things that are
almost funny
phony repetitions
creative auditions.

reality is cruel
they've said.
nothing is as it seems,
everyone is the same.
♠ ♠ ♠
the third poem from a set of verses i wrote for a disgusting pig whom i offered unconditional support and gave me [i]rotten apples.[/i]