Straight, rigid lines,
Cutting deep borders,
Slicing and distributing
Neat little pieces of land.
Uniform shapes
That are identical
To the core,
All placed in rows.
Children’s drawings,
Posted cleanly in the hall,
All depicting the same
Nice, little scene.
Sorting brains,
As if minds are finite,
As if neurons are
Suburban streets.
It is sickeningly boring,
When reality is so fluid.
Waves change shape,
Each crest and trough
Taking a new form.
It is never the same.
By whirlwindwrites
Labels: dark poetry, deep, earth, emotion, harmony, inspiring, lost, mysterious, philosophy, recent, short poems, spilled ink, unique.
