A ticket can win you a prize,

but it can also land you in jail.

It can allow you to see the show with your own eyes, 

and take a ride inside on the rail.

But the ticket can be deceptive, 

claiming a seat where you do not wish to be.

Expressive cannot catch receptive,

and no ticket can help you see.

We need incinerate

from our minds,

The idea that reminds

us of the negative

at the crucial moment in time. 

There isn’t a ticket to happiness,

There isn’t a ticket to fame,

There isn’t a ticket to make sense of this mess,

Or there is, and to each

is the same.

Stand in the Poet’s corner and confess,

calling the ticket handler out by name.

Get the one ticket you must profess,

and watch the rest go up in flames.