horoscope

Started off trying to say something,
Turned out it was all really nothing,
Just scratches and lines signifying,
Nothing to me, just more lies,
With which to whet the appetite,
Just a tease, a sliver of truth,
Sandwiched between bullshit.
Daily horoscope, sooner or later,
Might turn out right, what are the odds,
That someone’s dealing with issues,
Romantic or financial, personal or professional,
Hit the nail on the head, after so many tries,
No wonder why, finally got something right,
Three hundred plus days of being dead wrong.
Same old formula, from days of yore,
Honed to a skill, just the same,
Human nature has hardly changed,
We continue to play the same games,
With our lives and people’s feelings,
Hardened by our own wicked dealings,
All the same, still the same inside.
So I read my horoscope most everyday,
Listen with a cynical ear to what they say,
More for entertainment than wisdom,
Nuggets of useful advice for most any circumstance,
But just like everything else, seems left to chance,
So I’ll play along, pretend it has some meaning,
But in the end, we’re all just dreaming.