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A poem about some answers we would hope to get. |
God gave me an inferiority complex God Gave you a Car. Three chairs assembled neatly round an oak coffee table Awaiting the arrival of three distinct men One dressed in black The other in white And I the last of them. Black entered first, carrying fear in his wake Wrapped in his cloak of eternity’s night White followed shortly Peaceful, unspoken Brightening the room with his light. We’d met before, I and these two men The black had arrived by my bed I stared for a while At the ebony sight Until I knew for sure that I was … Meeting with a neighbour, the white from upstairs He’d been absent when I’d been in strife We arranged a meeting The three of us then To discuss this whole matter of life. Unresolved Hello sirs, I’d like to enquire as to why I’m here. I don’t mean to complain I find it never gets me anywhere Far For, in fairness Carelessness is my only explanation for Two brothers, of sorts Both locked down by iron By an anchor, immovable To confined solitary His chosen by him A matter of conscience Mine chosen by… someone. Why don’t you tell me? This brother… of sorts He’ll wait in his cage For another few years Then continue to live Yet I was strapped down By iron thick blood Hoping for a future You were never to give. White, would you tell me It’s predestination Or as a matter of course Due to my own free will For I don’t remember Doing much worse than others And yet you chose me To become terribly ill. And in the prime of my life, black You arrived on my doorstep Demanding to show me Actuality Yet why had you chosen Me to creep ever closer to When you had the choice Of all humanity Perhaps White, you would tell me It benefits other Well that I could accept If it wasn’t for pain Could you not have relieved me In some way or other That made my end easier While you could still gain? Resolute I remain Unconvinced By their cryptic reply That sometimes your answer Is not black and white. |