(no subject)
i'm not gonna tell you much about my life because... i dont feel like it. for now i'll just show you this slightly ridiculous poem i wrote right before bed one night last week:
Tbis place is a spoon
And I am the egg:
Sliced in half,
Hollowed and filled,
("Deviled," if you will.)
Within months I will stand
A garnished girl,
Posing proud and smiling,
Blue-robed like the others
On this platter next to me.
A white-gloved hand passes us off
And vaguely I hear
Someone complement the chef.
i'd like to know how people react to this. i can't tell if i like it or not or if i find it funny or cynical or just reflective.
only one more application to go!
that's all for now.
Tbis place is a spoon
And I am the egg:
Sliced in half,
Hollowed and filled,
("Deviled," if you will.)
Within months I will stand
A garnished girl,
Posing proud and smiling,
Blue-robed like the others
On this platter next to me.
A white-gloved hand passes us off
And vaguely I hear
Someone complement the chef.
i'd like to know how people react to this. i can't tell if i like it or not or if i find it funny or cynical or just reflective.
only one more application to go!
that's all for now.