Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
My Twentieth Year - 6. a critic
Poem No. 14
i.
I might have been first
Instead I am the worst
Did God make an illiterate writer
a painter with no hands
Did he make a critic for his creator
a simple fool with no fans
What exactly did God make –
a quivering mass of self-pity?
No, not God. I did that despite his sake
he is love, and cannot be flighty
ii.
The rain is coming now
How nice it would be
to be washed clean by it
but
I lack such soap.
I might have been first
Instead, I'll remain the worst.
Poem No. 15
Sweep and pound as hard as you can
wind, throw them at me
Sweet pungent smell, clean my mind
fury of the storm, make me see
Wetness awaken me, frighten
me with the cold
I don’t like the air I breathe now
fill me with newly brisk air
Rain help me see me
anew!!!
Poem No. 16
They…
…squeak, and squawk and rumble,
and they fly.
Oh, I'd like to be an elevator humble,
and live in the sky.
- 6
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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