Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
There was once a stingy, little toad with fire upon its head, a shrilly voice of ignorance that left annoyance in its stead. The rules it made were silly and gave good reason to rebel. It wouldn't let the others speak. Why? No one could tell. Its disconnect was obvious when treating toads like flies. And all pretended to do what told until it turned its eyes. It sits upon its lily pad as if better than the rest-- unaware that the other toads are, frankly, sick to death.
0
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
The Librarian
There was once a stingy, little toad with fire upon its head, a shrilly voice of ignorance that left annoyance in its stead. The rules it made were silly and gave good reason to rebel. It wouldn't let the others speak. Why? No one could tell. Its disconnect was obvious when treating toads like flies. And all pretended to do what told until it turned its eyes. It sits upon its lily pad as if better than the rest-- unaware that the other toads are, frankly, sick to death.
cheyenne37
Written by
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 11:27 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem