The earth is tired of you
stepping on it and so it is insolently stubborn
and insists on keeping you inside
when you should be trodding upon
grasses of brilliant green in the heart of june
and instead of being twitterpated or engaging in twitterpation or twitterpating
(I don't know, I just like the word) but really instead of that, our hearts are frozen over
because they think it's winter and they think
we should be lonely, alone, lonesome, solitary
but really earth, it's summer
and my windshield is frozen in the morning time
and really, that shouldn't happen
really I should be twitterpated and not writing this poem inside with an almost empty soul
really I should be full of warm words
so warm that they bake together inside of me
become a toasty mass
so that come winter,
I won't ever be alone |
Submission Name: baked words
