Scale
By alexislebaroudeur
- 210 reads
There used to be melted crayolas,
On the ceiling of the palace furnace -
Sticks of wax with cracks and grooves,
Where i would hide in the rain.
But now every day is my sack of bones,
Walking a funeral march with arched legs
And starched shirts floating
Sailing around the equator of my spine.
I think my shoes look like a pair of boats
These boots are fine these boats are mine,
They've got holes to china but whatever -
They never let me down
My medulla meduses me,
My hair is eerie my hands are gaunt,
And i'm losing a bit too much weight every day
Maybe if i got tired enough,
I could divide myself by zero
Rethrow the dice and for christs sake
Shake this scarecrow out of my mirror,
Sadly the character limit
For human beings is only One,
No resets on your presets
They're etched ingenuously in your genes,
By some friendly hand in the sky with no eyes
For what they'd made.
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