Senseless Sunday Sarcasm ( a not-quite-right #poem )
As I walk through the forest of my life
unraveling the brambles of my thoughts,
questions passing through a weary mind,
look toward another year of drought.
The machete of a brain that once retained
a sharpened edge no longer cuts my path.
I sit among the fallen leaves and ask,
Why do hemorrhoids have to plague my
My forest thickens, light dims from my eyes,
The pancakes that were once my melon breasts
beg to know the reasons why I thought
bras changed the gravity upon my chest.
If I could do it all over again,
A bra-less, playful person I’d become,
moving through the branches of my trees
instead of sitting so much on my…bum.