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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Philosophy · #1338510
Satire about life and selfishness and living only for yourself-- that kind of thing!
It was, as I remember sometime in mid-November
And yet-fanged winds gummed pink flesh tender.


On my left side, my wife,
On the right, my mother
And I, I was holding my two cats.
And so we walked until
The boy came (naturally)
And swung his fists,
Knife, "Gonna kill you,"
And I ran, ran,
Leaving wife, mother, and two cats.
For him. To him. Anything, him, him
As long as I can live!

Weren't they my life
That I left staring at that knife?


Surprised but still resolute,
I never went back.
I live, live, my life
life is back with the boy
doing what he does (naturally)
from others, take, take...

Yet I, I the one who fled
Breathing, fucking, eating, bed


I can still say I am I am I am I
But it's only me who knows
That soul and mind and freedom
Wither with mid-November's rose.
© Copyright 2007 Sebastian Tate (sebastiantate at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1338510-Self-Preservation