They told me I'd never recover,
Doomed to limp my way to the grave.
I've always followed my own mind,
proverbial lollipop on a stick.
Doomed slams a harsh verdict, don't you think?
Aren't we all doomed? One way or another?
I prefer lipping my way to the brim of my grave:
Going to Tomb Town in my own terms.
Always the rebel... God made me like that.
On another subject...
My wings have sprouted,
But I'm still encased in this block of real.
If I'd known you'd pronounce over me,
I never would have agreed to this deal.
Stretched too thin for an ultimatum,
My body baulks inside its cube;
Broth forth and be made soup.
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I'm really just protein,
And not the greatest protein at that.
A slight variation on the notion of atomy
Creates an ever-crouching danger.
Black jaguar circles closer,
Holds the key to my release.
Transformation by dissolution,
I become my own solution.
YOU ARE READING
Magpie Pearls
Poetry~ This poetic journey started when I began questioning why I write poetry. The assumption I'd come across pearls of wisdom to impart is quickly challenged by readers of "Magpie Pearls", leading me to explore truth in a broader sense. Is truth univer...
