My Wall
My Wall
On my wall I spied a piece of twine
I picked it up and realized it was an old friend of mine
He said if I stayed here on my wall I’d stay apathetic and forgotten
Like a common city whore, I’d be used up and rotten
I scoffed at the twine, despite his credible advice
My wall was comfortable and the floor is cyanide
So the twine can whine and plead and try
But as long as I’m on my wall
I’ll rot but never die
This poem is about:
Me
My community
My country
Our world