Sunday, February 24, 2013

Drains and Holes -A Poem

At work, I'm stuck
between 3 ghetto hens:


but I dont mind
(most of the times, they're harmless;
the rest, they're capable of 
instilling the need to commit
crimes against humanity)

I ascribe it to youth
and remember
I was just as energetic
(and obsessively obtrusive
in other's sanity)
as they are now.

Give them time.
The world will drain their exuberance
like a battery victim.
There are little joys
like schoolyard candy
and everyone's pockets 
have holes in the bottom. 

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