Pity

Egg rolls of a mystery
Pot pies of hidden fat
Reduced to orange juice
And a banana
How pitiful my lunch today

I cannot climb that fence
It will perpetually freeze me
My hands cannot bare such chill
Neither can these feet
On those barbs
How pitiful my freedom

The faltered pronoun
As a subtitle is that of itself
Laughter when i imagine
Trying to understand "it"
Any of it
How pitiful that night

Music played too much
Along with mangled melody's
Crushed by similar beats
I write outside my diary
And hide inside
How pitiful my secrets

Reviews

[John Phoenix Hutchinson..]

Trying to understand "it".....will make you grow as a poet. :) Good piece!