Please enjoy an original Poem born from my early morning frustrations today.
Let me cut down every personality peak.
Send you to the sheep’s valley.
And shame you for being a follower.
Let me wrap myself in your mind,
Brutally dissect it from within,
And tell you your broken.
I’ll place your liver on the backburner,
And your brain in the window.
Let it soak in the sunset,
Advising you not to be so hot-headed.
You tell me the clouds talk to you when you cry.
Dear child, that is merely God’s word.
His voice. Calm. Collected. Easily followed.
Years later, in a quiet room.
Your tapping foot a metronome for the silent soundtrack.
You tell another professional that God’s word leaves you afriad.
He’ll blame it on the smoke in the air,
Disguising God’s words
In my own, demonic understanding.
Turn your palms to the sky,
And I’ll tell your future.
I see you alive for many years.
Therefore, let’s disregard God’s death directive.
You are safe, according to your palms.
That’s all the time we have for today. Will you need another appointment?
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