I am glad I'm not a dock.
They're always so depressed.
Waiting for the ocean to wave back at last.
Wet and cold, rotting at tips.
Looking at the same view,
wishing they were ships.
I am glad I'm not a ship,
for they've no place that's home.
No matter how big, they're always all alone.
They travel long ways for days, weeks, and months.
Watching the close of day,
and wishing they were the sun.
I am glad I'm not the sun
'cause he has such a big task.
Keeping the earth warm, and helping humans time keep track.
He watches over the swallows as they all migrate west.
Wishing he were the birds
so he, too, could take a rest.
I am glad I'm not a bird,
even though they seem so free.
They live without rules, and that life is not for me.
They are always in fear of ending up dead.
Wishing they could be humans, instead.
I don't like being human.
I wish I could be...
Anything. EVERYTHING (except being me),
but I'm glad I'm not a dock, a ship, the sun, a dove.
When I'm compared to them, then being me I love.
YOU ARE READING
Identity I
PoetryA sequence of poems I made throughout the years. Just something to read when you're bored (I recommend "TIME" and "LOVE POEM?"). If you're looking for emotional, try "SLOUGH" or "ENDS MEAT."
