Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Untitled 1/14/15

Maybe when the spring comes,
I'll roll out of here,
loud and wild like a thundercloud.
Clap my hands and shake the mountains,
shake your home.

But for now, I'm content
to be blanketed by the winter,
dropped into a void
like a tulip bulb
humming with potential
and ignoring the fact
that I'm only nurtured
with bullshit.

Maybe I'll bloom in the spring,
But maybe I'll stay hidden in the dark,
content to be a dud.

You'd forget about me.
You'd drop your expectations.
Eventually, as with all of us,

only the earthworms will remember. 

No comments:

Post a Comment