Emotional Alchemy

I forget who said it, but someone once stated "Art is never finished, it is just abandoned." Well, that's the case with this poem. Today's the first time it even got a title, believe it or not... Heh, well, c'est la vie.

I've found the cure, To the lonely disease, Rip out my heart, Pin it up on my sleeve, Cook up a potion, Then drink it all down, So that you lose the notion, Of playing the clown, Transmute your soul, Turn lead into gold, Your philosopher's stone, Your allegience is sold.

Author's Note

It may seem a bit unfinished, but I think it wound up nicely anyway...