Last night, during the FHE lesson, a poem was read that had some imagery that really struck me. I liked it; it was semi-unconventional. I'm working on getting a copy of the poem for my personal collection. It reminded me of one of my favorite images that someone gave one time about life being an escalator. I woke up still thinking about it, so I'm going to try and make today's poem about that.
(Update)
So the escaltor thing never got developed; maybe some other day.
Instead, I managed to come up with two things. One is barely considered crap and the other is too short; maybe I'll flesh it out someday. I lost where I was going with it.
Those Two
I worry that he'll be a dick
And leave her with their baby
In their house
For no place with no job.
I wish that I could take him in
And make him want to change.
It's sad to see her see
She's lost the power
I know she never had.
Poor sir (almost),
We all wish
She wasn't pregnant anymore:
You just had the balls to say it to her face.
______________________________
Those Two
Their bodies made a pup tent,
Their hands, they slept inside.
There was no place for them to run
Nor was there peace to find.
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