#quartered
I am being drawn and quartered
By each expectation pulling away,
Tugging at my fragile sense
Of identity (if there ever was one)
Until suddenly, oh no! So suddenly
I am in pieces, and each person has only
A part of myself, that is all I can give—
I gave myself the death sentence, they’re
Only the horses that tear away my
Skin.
As they bolt away, I wonder
How far they will go until they
Realize
That I am no longer Whole.
I sit here sinking
Into the dirt,
Without feeling because I am on
The precipice of numbness,
A mere step away from screaming.
Nov 16, 2024
Nov 16, 2024 at 2:45 PM UTC
Such joy a day can bring to hearts of men,
The trees bedecked, in finest autumn hue;
A throng of merriment upon the heath,
The glistened lilac, wrought in morning dew.
The drummer boys, a-beating on their drums,
Old peddlers pushing carts, piled high with wares;
Beggars, worn and haggard, as their clothes,
And women, in their finest, catching stares.
The roaring cheers as horse parades go by,
Delivering up the bounty of the feast;
The VIPs a-riding in fine style,
Their open carriage, drawn behind the beast.
As one by one, they climb above the crowd,
Their speeches cheered, with jeers and playful boos;
Then swiftly swinging, onwards with their tour,
The crowds go jostling, chasing better views.
The butcher greets the VIPs with glee,
And demonstrates his mastery of meat;
With sharpened knives, a-gleaming in the sun,
His chopping rhythym keeps a steady beat.
As shadows lengthen, slowly crowds disperse,
With pondrous looks, a day to e'er remember;
And every year, its carnival once more,
Lest we forget, the fifth day of November.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 4:47 AM UTC