Some days I like to imagine,
That the Earth,
Is a gigantic glass dome,
Crystallized by the Sun a million years ago,
And that when you fire your semi-automatic rifle,
Towards the clouds,
You have the power to shatter my entire world.
Some days I like to imagine,
That the sky is blue,
Because you bathed the clouds,
In the blood of a thousand blueberries,
And that every time it turns gray with a storm,
You're always there the next day,
Climbing up your ladder,
To stain it cobalt again.
Some days I like to imagine,
That when you say you made me,
You mean that you scoured the Universe,
Across nine suns and twelve moons,
To find the supernova that sparkles brightest,
And then sculpted me from its glittering stardust.
You used to always recite,
That childish proverb we learn at three,
And most days I still like to imagine,
That if sticks and stones can break my bones,
Could a bullet silence me?
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Based on the prompt "bones, blue, and bullets" given to me by the wonderful WinterReader0917. Thank you for the wonderful prompt, Margo, and I hope you like what I did with it.
This poem is a bit...strange in the story presented, if I do say so myself. That being said, I'd love to hear your interpretations of it in the comments. That's the beauty of poetry; though I may have had one thing in mind while writing this, you may be reminded of another. So I'd love to hear from your perspective what you think it means.
As always, thank you for reading. :)
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In My Mind's Eye
PoesiaIf life is but a dream, I will never achieve lucidity. #6 in Poetry (2/14/2022) Runner-Up in the Metaphorically Spoken category of the Summer Sun Awards, 2016 Cover by Seth Yurchisin (IG: @sjyurchisin Note that none of th...
