born like a turtle with no shell
sitting in the dark
drinking tea with his dollies,
and if the real world gets too close
he'll hide under the covers
and run his hand over the vertebrae
of his soft, exposed spine,
born to be cared for
lying as soft and wet as a baby mouse
squirming in the light as the rock's lifted up,
spoon mercury into his mouth
to help him grow
-
Author:
distorted mikey (
Offline) - Published: April 30th, 2022 06:53
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.