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categories, date, tags, title, layout
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2012-03-01 00:00:00 +0000 |
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Monday Morning Shift | poetry |
These plants look beautiful, but not at this location. They must be eradicated according to administration. I brought out my tools; Some gloves and a spade, Then sat down, Indian style, to begin the raid. The roots, like little fingers, held on to dear life As I cut through their homes with an oddly-shaped knife.
To justify these cruel killings I thought of what they've done: Suffocated the superior plants And blocked out the lovely sun.
But what makes one plant superior and the other inferior? Just the fact that the other has a beautiful exterior? They are simply trying their best to make a living. We must see past our differences and be more forgiving.
But these thoughts lead down to a dangerous road; Let's not personify each seed we've sowed.
The sun now rises and heats the ground. The ice embedded within melts all around, And now a nice wet spot on my pants is found Which leaves me thinking of thoughts more profound: "I really hope no one's looking at me right now."