poeticsofdescription: sigh.

Dienstag, Dezember 7

So he would sulk and drink and mope

and cross his arms and hope to die.

And then a fairy came one night to bring this sorry boy to life.

She pulled some strings,

and spun him about.

That boy sprang up

and began to shout,

"My arms, my legs, my heart, my face

they are alive!"

And she would cry, "Liar, liar!

What have I done?

You're no lover, and I'm not fighter."

I wonder, in a year and half if I too will no longer feel pain and no longer feel deceived.