there was a man who told you to
reset things by releasing
a flock of doves;
and they would fling down mass graves
and you would think you were doing something right
and you would feel like you were finally worth some grace
because no one else much liked your mind
when they peeled away the outside,
crumpled it up, and put it in their pockets;
they left you on the floor
but i don't want you on my floor
i want you dancing on the roof
but you danced off the edge of it.
2 comments:
this is really really cool. i don't know why, but it's not as sad as it should be.
also, it wasn't about hobos.
i agree with the coolness bit.
i always, always wonder about the pronouns in your poems.
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