Wednesday
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Wednesday was your least favorite day and you died on a Wednesday.After living for sixty-four years, you became sick and you passed away.The eleventh anniversary of your death is on your least favorite day of the week.
Here’s a silly poem I came up with. Disclaimer: It is NOT to be taken seriously. I was inspired by a Limerick poem which is meant to be silly and weird. Often times they make little to no sense at all.
It's a Wednesday in November
And I'm struggling to keep my eyes open
I must look a mess
My eyes are droopy
And my hair is unbrushed
I'll admit, I didn't try at all this morning
I have a vase
Of sad forget-me-nots
On the bedstand
Next to Emily
Rose-wooden eyes
See what mine still hide from me
Behind the thread and the needle holes
I know we still holds my memories
Dark galore
The minute my hands shut the door
Blank music sheets spread on the floor
Spiderwebs on the stairs
Wake me up
Before I lose it all
This nightmare's a little too real
Pick me up
I'm starting to fall
Pretty soon I'l forget how to breath
I'm not asking. I'm begging you now
Fighting to keep the past behind
Fighting to keep the ground underneath my feet
While all around the world dissolves to ashes
All around me
"You are like a cloud I spy peripherally,
But vanish as I set mine eye upon it.
but vanish as I cast my gaze upon it.
