This is a time that I praise the cautious, self-preserving side of my nature.
I am terribly glad I never posted this blog on a site where actual people (read: people I have Real Life Contact with) (excluding you, Fishy, because you are always the exception) could read and weep.
Because now it is Teenager Time, the part of the program where LEGION (because I think I have multiple personalities) comes and sings a silly song. :
Tomorrow I am leaving
And no one seems to notice
(Other than The Fish,
Because she is The Exception).
Today I felt stretched
Like Bilbo said to Gandalf:
"Butter over too much
Crusty bread."
This morning all my confidence
Was gathered up around me,
My fortress in the clouds
That surround my head.
This evening it all shattered
When faced with bulging backpacks
And bulging in those places
Where bulging is unseemly.
TODAY I AM A PIGEON
Flying over FORTRESSES
And SADNESS and
DIS'LLUSIONMENT and
Tiny spots of sunshine
Intervene.
These poems never mention
What the poet really means.
Ah, poetry. The perfect outlet for everything. It's even more perfect when rhyming is thrown out with yesterday's imperfections.
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