Wednesday, January 26, 2011

My Favorite Pastime

I guess understanding it is the most difficult part
I guess he takes pleasure from my suffering that much
A convenient tool to scratch on your dirty lawn
A way to kill boredom
A toy of amusement for his kingdom
Chopped, diced, minced
Into tiny little bits of treats for his ego to eat
What could be more hurtful than that?
Who else could laugh at that?
Still, day and night takes their turn without my notice
And I rise up each day fueled by laughter and sarcasm

Foolish enough to hope and believe
I guess there has been a lot that I missed,
for I thought I heard the word love pass through his lips
Like a piece of paper suspended in midair,
Tossed and passed around by the hurricane
When will my feet be able to touch the ground again?

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