Against the Odds
by The Walrus
Posted: Thursday, November 6, 2003 Word Count: 52 Summary: One can't always explain where poems come from. This one is no exception. |
My own worst enemy,
wantonly destroying,
carelessly dashing,
my god-given energy.
And, although, acutely aware,
I still shred my life
with serrated scissors
into flailing tatters.
But,
I breathe,
I moan,
I sigh,
I punch my fist high.
And, as long as there is
life in my body,
I contemptuously,
resolutely
defy.
wantonly destroying,
carelessly dashing,
my god-given energy.
And, although, acutely aware,
I still shred my life
with serrated scissors
into flailing tatters.
But,
I breathe,
I moan,
I sigh,
I punch my fist high.
And, as long as there is
life in my body,
I contemptuously,
resolutely
defy.