Believe me I am sorry when I say--
My wings are pinned tight to my chest
Memory on memory today--
Perhaps I shall pass this test--
For once, for life, for truth--
I'm trapped within a scheme of youth!
My colors have all faded--
My heart has been abated!
No fire burns within my soul--
That's there for other purpose--
other than to toll,
I astoundingly suppose.
My feet they dance not to the song
To which my mind holds long!
My feet are tangled unto my heart!
Oh, my darting feet are tripped and broken;
My brow is bowed at best.
Remember when i sing to thee,
Hold onto what is true to see--
Hold onto what shall set thee free.
-Eliza K.
YOU ARE READING
Life is a Wiggle
PoetryFortune cookies can be right, no matter how wrong they sound. October and I (Eliza) found this to be humoring upon many occasions—like when she managed to pull a nearly incoherent one out of a sweet yet plain cookie. “Life is a wiggle.” We don’t kn...
