Last night while I was sleeping
somebody stole my butt.
They ran off with my feet and legs.
They even got my gut.
It seems they swiped my elbows,
my arms and shoulders too.
My chest and back have disappeared.
I’m not sure what to do.
They made off with my head as well.
They nabbed my neck and throat.
Now all that’s left is just my hand.
It’s writing you this note.
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YOU ARE READING
River of POEMS
PoetryPoetry is a type of literature based on the interplay of words and rhythm. It often employs rhyme and meter (a set of rules governing the number and arrangement of syllables in each line). In poetry, words are strung together to form sounds, images...
