A Brief ExtrapolationA Poem by RFDIIIA chance meeting in the night.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall, tell me who’s perfect of all
And show me all their worried ways - please bring them to their knees. Oh! I didn’t hear you come. Welcome - Welcome, welcome son! I didn’t think it’d be so fun to bring you to my knees. Stay a while, do drag a chair, brush away that tattered hair, perhaps I shouldn’t even care, or set out to appease. Appease of what? Appease your mind? Appease myself to writing lines - upon a board that isn’t there, or even hanging in the air! …Silence? Perhaps my mind does linger so, floating in a vat of woe, and though I know it isn’t so, let’s speak by candlelight. But in the brightness of our time, perhaps there is no sun to shine, and if that is a case of mine, just set it at my door. Brandy? No, of course. These floorboards warp with every breeze. Throw off your coat - feel free to freeze. Come, Let’s walk along the dark and corridors of a soul. Can you feel it? Can you hear it? Perhaps you should compromise and beat it. Perhaps I should demand reprise and feed it. What? Why’d you stop. I urge you not to tarry long, all manner will soon be gone, and even though you fear the view, you won’t forever - you’ll become it too. And if the view is all you are, perhaps you’re not perfect at all, so if I know that this is true, then out! OUT! Away with you! Do not come back, just take your coat! Don’t even stir, I’ll tear your throat. Don’t end this on a solemn note. Perfect? Filthy cur! I wish, I wish, I wish you were. Goodnight, and good riddance. © 2012 RFDIIIAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
Stats |