#60 - Stoic Equine Ponderings
The view from here is spectacular.
It has been for decades now-
But I have since grown pale,
And the view feels just as stale.
On these all-too-familiar nights-
I tire of all the same old sights.
I’ve exhausted my vernacular.
A speech concluded but no bow-
For many a year I have remained,
And in that time, I have been stained.
While I ponder my existence-
And why my body gives resistance.
I sit in a state of discomfort perpetual.
On a broken transport I cannot fix.
My mind my only refuge-
Amongst this open prison refuse.
I could just escape into the sun,
But, damnit, I can’t get myself to run.
They say that age is conceptual-
I always feel like a ton of bricks.
God knows that I have tried-
And if I could, I would have cried.
Sadly, that, I can only feign-
On the days on which it rains.
No matter the people around,
I shall always be utterly alone-
A myriad of emotions I have felt,
But with these cards that I’ve been dealt-
Even with this perfectly chiseled face,
Only one am I allowed to give grace.
To this placement I am bound,
Silent and stoic as a stone.
How I got here, I don’t know.
Nor why these winged bastards love me so.
Using my horse for some kind of nest,
And my hat for things more grotesque.
A look of honor that’s quite humble,
With a strong and valiant gaze.
These are not at all who I am-
I fear my life is nothing but a sham.
What with all these feelings in my heart-
But no methods to set myself apart.
Stuck until the world or I should crumble-
Not enough time to gain my praise.
But there is one thing that only I can do-
(Although I wish it were untrue,
All who’ve seen me can attest)
And that is look this statuesque.
~Ramblings of a Crazy Man, #60 (Stoic Equine Ponderings)
Comments
← #64 - Dangerously Quixotic #59 – Intimate Shock Of Static →
