Musings of the insignificant By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
You have always been a little fake.
Like the sincerities you spit,
Interwoven with deflections and guilt.
Not so, you say. Another weight, another shame.
But then, you have always been a little unkind.
The pull of the tide-- yet, no-- not so powerful.
The devious child who pulls on the string
Loose from an unsuspecting passerby.
The passerby, unaware of their role as
A toy. A temporary amusement.
What happens next reveals an enigma.
Benign, apathetic, or malicious?
When you, the child, find that the string
You hold in your hand may grant you
Yet another joy? A newer, less fleeting delight.
The tug: larceny, or child's play?
But then, you have always been a little shrewd.
And when you inevitably dig into your new wonder,
Oh how you rejoice. You change and shape it to your
Liking, and yourputty submits. The perfect playmate.
You forget about the passerby. But they do not
Forget you. They search, and they find.
But theputty they once knew is of a different form now, they realize with a sinking despair.
Would you try to return it if you knew?
With all your might, try to undo the pushing,
The violent sculpting.
But then, I have always been a little selfish.
And though I have not asked for the return of my friend,
I have wished for miracles. Never
To be granted for such insignificance.
And I have clung a little too desperately
A few too many times. So I relent.
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