from which you drink
a plentiful, pasteurized potion
of sorts.
Secretly smashed is the Glass
that resembles some
resounding fallacy
to which you smile so proudly of.
I see it coming now; although you don't,
a glad gust of wind whips into motion
the thought that was so thoroughly
unthought through.
Daisy by day; Mercurial by night.
Will there be more fuel for the fire?
Its impossible to foresee the right answer
But, yes.
Hope is something long forgotten
And this is what has set us all free
// A Weird Fish poem
