In the mirror
The only thing I see
Is,
I'm not the same
But as I
Spill out of
The chrysalis,
Loose
In a puddle of embryotic fluid,
I'm not the man
I want to be.
I'm slowly picking away
The eggshell,
My first steps
As a normal Duckling
Into a silly old goose.
YOU ARE READING
Scribblings
PoetryWords arranged in a funny order. Poems about my view of reality and how my inner fantasy world colours it with strange tinges. I love discussions about concepts and ideas so please feel free to comment. © 2018 Brian Lynch
