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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #799016
An insane poem.
I stare in silence through my cracked eyelids as
My tears flow upward and echo from above me.
Tiny mushrooms on my land explode into a
Cloud that will all but ravage a flea.

I have trapped the fly on the wall
And it looks to me like he’s sleeping.
Now is your chance, tiny one,
Run along and stop your weeping.

My lonely heart is full of empty shadows
Of misshapen companions in my past.
Today, my tiny one and the flea,
Are my friends, first and last.

Natures will has placed me in
This solitary void for the last time.
Because he who laughs last,
Steps on his back and breaks the line.

Upside down truths make my heart bitter
And my tiny one traps the fly.
Four and four and four and four is mine,
My flea is echoing from the sky.

I know I am gone. I know I am gone.
I was born without an echo to carry me.
The fly also lost his color today,
As I leave tiny one and the flea.
© Copyright 2004 _Mikey_ (mike_ostrom at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/799016-Tiny-and-The-Fly