A little bit of migraine here and there,
thoughts vibrate when i hit this snare,
the windows jam, seize, don't function,
black windows define dysfunction.
You see the apple on the tree,
offer it to me, very gently,
i ask you, is it poisoned?
and you, being selfless, taste it for me.
The mist on the mirror makes you forget,
that once upon a time, you were a reject,
and you, put the mirror first,
but its the mist, whom you should trust.
You take out my mind and keep it in your pocket,
hypnotize me with the times locket,
the darkness then opens my mind,
and this poem is what you find.