literature

Cesspool

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Literature Text

A dark aura emanates

From the decapitated crumbs

Of a muffin top.

  

In this malicious place

Resides a fruitful amount of led.

They almost appear to be shining silver

In the dapples of moonlight

Coursing through my green blinds.


Once somebody found

A flask filled with a dusky substance

Strangled of any frothing air.

The Coke bottle

Is spoiled and forgotten.


Even some chalky clay

Is buried in this mausoleum.

The graveyard of lost quality

Lost possessions

And lost memories.


The fabric and threads holding it together

Have long been broken.

Unfortunately more than a few paperclips

Haven't been enough to keep it bound

For too long.


Intricate scribbles

Align the strangely colored material.

Most of the words have no deep meaning.

And a whole legion of the unreadable letters

Have faded to never be deciphered

By the human eye again.


And even in all it's wonders

Children can never learn to appreciate it.

They take turns chucking and throwing out

These precious artifacts of the past.

I'm among these children.


Every passing year near summer's wake

All of the adolescents gather, ready to quit working

And to start playing in the sun rays.

This time is a sacred time.

It's when the objects nobody cares for

First gets tossed down the stairs.

Then they may throw it to the trash.


Sometimes the young ones,

Mostly me,

Threaten to set the place that hold these objects on fire.

To have the flame's lights

Dance and glow bright.


It's a dark cesspool

Where things are never found

Till you don't need them.

It's heavy to carry
And just an all around burden.


Because I hate my backpack.

And it hates me.
Haha a poem from class about my backpack X3
Still grounded so can't say much. Bai! o/
© 2012 - 2024 MaxxHysteria
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