watching the scene like a new stephen king movie,
waiting for the hook,
while the fake think they are taking the real for a loop,
oops,
played the fool,
but youth was never wasted on the young
when Bonafide was an adolescent;
viewing the picture like a Divinci sculpture,
checking out all the details and different textures,
admiring the artistic flow and the creator's gift,
to share with the world for free,
no charge,
except for the your time spent gazing in amazement;
locked in a physical trance,
loving the dance,
but lacking soulful rhythm,
even though folks think the prism slow,
it's just peeping the seed and watching the pollinator;
illustrating the image of a picture worth priceless life...