Everything
was neatly ordered
with negligible negatives on the right
and overwhelming positives piled behind and to the left.
Will
it ever be clear why
some struggle significantly whilst others are able
to classify feelings so that life seems to makes perfect sense?
Be
sure this cadaver
had overcome his negative aspect
to such a degree that he was permanently joyful.
All right
Not a perfect ending.
Rubber gloves and a twisting device
revealed envy to be the undoing of this unfortunate.
aplaceforpoetry 
God, this is wonderfully dense and beautifully put together. Hit a nerve.
Thank you. One thing that amazes me about poems is where they keep coming from – another mystery x
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I’d write poems too, but I have not been born under a rhyming planet. 😦
If I was a rhyming planet, I would wear a hat of stars;
and I’d write some fifty words a day and sign them ‘Vincent Mars’.
🙂
Reblogged this on victoriajhardint.