To tell you the truth, I have none.
I learn to read and write for pun.
My realities here have begun.
My truths are your zeros to done.
I wish to go outside and run.
Warm my cold bones under the sun
Fears of being under the gun
All by myself and just for fun
Laughing at me poked by their shun
Does not matter if we are one
Does not matter if I have won
Or if I’m your daughter or son
Or if I weigh a big fat ton
Or if I pray as priest or nun
Drink some water and eat my bun.
Physical beauty shining stun
Spiritual awareness always spun
Nobody cared — work left undone.
Another attempt at soliloquy poem of eight syllables in monorhyme.
Copyright © 2007 by Fluffy von der Flynn. All rights reserved.
Oh, John Jr! That’s longer than I would ever imagine, especially for your conditions! So I shouldn’t rant like this…