Scramble Sauce
Thy desolate land cannot contain, the phenomenon of which is so mundane;
And yet from each eternal ray of light, thou continues to amaze with everything right.
A glimmer, a response, none without; the true light within.
Hope remains, self contained in its vessel provided.
The shadow of doubt cannot hide from dismay the nature of the human complexity,
each organ a robot of its own self. A mind! A heart! Together and complete! Together and whole!
But yet, just like thine self, it is human. Capable of love, capable of virtue.
Different parts, one system.
This poem is about:
Me
Guide that inspired this poem:
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: