A strangely enjoyable poem of mine that I’ve been working on. This took me a little while to write this one but overall, I put a lot of strange things in this poem that ultimately lead up to something that mankind cannot do without. I’ll leave it to the reader. Comments are open.
Creator
Maggots
Swarm.
Blood
Rushes.
Leaky Pipes
Drip.
Paint
Peels.
Fungus
Grows.
Vermin
Multiply.
Traitors
Backstab.
Hatred
Hates.
A bearded man
Sits
On a wooden stool.
In a dark room
With a lit light bulb
On a metal fixture.
Surrounding him
Are Body Parts
In Glass Jars.
Eyeballs
Swim.
Fingers
Float.
Limbs
Hang.
Lungs
Are in bags.
Hearts
Pulsate
By themselves.
Skin is Dough
Bones are Flour
Blood is Water
Muscles are Eggs.
Blood drips
Onto the
Drop cloth
At his feet.
Installing
And living.
Breaking
And Dying.
Baking for
A while.
Pain lasts
Forever.
He walks over
To a woman
Opens her stomach
And puts
The Fetus
In there.
Returning
To his workplace
To repeat the process.
Believe it or not
But this
Is the Cycle
Of life.
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