It doesn't have to make sense.

It would be easy just to fall apart,
Some say you can die from a broken heart.
Is it true?

Why do we get the Monday blues?
Or that Friday feeling?
What about a Woeful Wednesday?
Never heard of that one.

When you're on the phone,
What makes you pick up the pen and doodle?
One small dot on a page, turns into a scribble, turns into a masterpiece.

Why does a rainbow make you smile,
Did you ever find the end of it?
Did you find that pot of gold?

Anti-ageing moisturiser- it can't stop you growing old,
It just prolongs the wrinkles from showing.
You are still aging.

Don't fool yourself,
Be real, be true.

Life has a meaning,
Karma and fate,
Everything happens for a reason.
Blah, blah, blah.

Trashy tabloids,
Groundbreaking news.
Babies born around the globe every second of every day.
Trees falling down,
Storms and tornadoes.

This doesn't make sense,
But who said it has to?
I write what I see in my head.
It might not rhyme,
But that's fine.
Ooo I made a rhyme,
On the above line.

Damn,
Ham
Lamb.
More rhymes, I'm a poet and I didn't even know it.

Now tuck yourself into bed,
That's not an easy task,
Rest your head upon your pillow and dream of days that have passed.
Memories you try not to forget,
But everyday you forget a miniscule part of that special memory,
Until one day that sacred memory is lost,
Stored in a locked box,
Deep in the chambers.
Locked away, code forgotten, key lost.
Memory gone.