boredom was the only monster underneath the bed at home
it creeps up so fast if you're not careful
it'll set so thick in the air
a knife can cut through it but it will not get rid of it
the **** was something she knew all along
it's the fabric in the boxes that give it an upper cut
the paint on a percaline figure that blinds its site
the recipes in a box that cut away at it slowly
the tomatoes to pick, to eventually throw at it
the colored pencils; the shank of creativity
the boredom will crawl away and bother another family
it preys on other houses
of the mom's that don't know how to get rid of it
and only flinch when they look the assassin in the eyes
Dec 25, 2020
Dec 25, 2020 at 10:09 PM UTC
boredom was the only monster underneath the bed at home
it creeps up so fast if you're not careful
it'll set so thick in the air
a knife can cut through it but it will not get rid of it
the **** was something she knew all along
it's the fabric in the boxes that give it an upper cut
the paint on a percaline figure that blinds its site
the recipes in a box that cut away at it slowly
the tomatoes to pick, to eventually throw at it
the colored pencils; the shank of creativity
the boredom will crawl away and bother another family
it preys on other houses
of the mom's that don't know how to get rid of it
and only flinch when they look the assassin in the eyes
couldn't afford Christmas gifts this year so I wrote poems for my family. this one is for my mom. Thought it was too violent but went with it, she thought it was funny.
