A man spoke to me today,
On the train home from work,
He reached for my hands,
Carelessly, as if it were natural,
His were leather, rough,
With grinning eyes,
And tired lips,
He spoke,
I am a penguin.
Now, I thought, that was odd,
But who am I to judge?
So I remained patiently quiet.
I am a penguin,
With my tattered suit,
I care for my young-
And for my mate,
Whom I love deeply.
How sweet, I thought,
That he could care so much,
But what is the point?
I am a penguin,
The stone I got my wife-
Was the shiniest on the beach,
And I braved seals,
For her, I am enough.
Now, that's adorable,
But his hands were firm,
And sweaty,
Leave me alone, my eyes asked.
I am a penguin,
But I tire of it,
And perhaps for a moment,
I'd rather be a dolphin,
And swim away, with you...
But sir,
I said,
Do you know what I am?
No, why?
I am obsidian,
Dark, hard, sharp,
Forged in the fires of chaos,
And if you hold me without care,
I'll cut a *****.
