"They're waiting for me...."
A poem born of sorrow and lost pets.
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"webs."
a poem about melancholy and sinus problems.
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To Write One's Own Name She'd write her own name If she had this notebook Why expire anyone else? If she were younger, she'd write someone else's name However, perhaps, this is growth That she'd only write her own name Existence is misery and so what would be her relief? What use is retribution? Well, none, certainly She wondered what would happen She knew that anyone's name written Would die of whatever the writer wanted (or heart attack otherwise) So, what would happen if she wrote her own? All she knew is that, if she had this notebook, She'd write her own name in it If nothing happened, she'd be devastated If something did happen, perhaps, it'd be relief (with all considered) —Amoridere, 9/16/2024
"To Write One's Own Name"
To put it candidly, if such existed, I'd write my own name in it. No reason to do otherwise.
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Little mouse, I envy you. She looked at a mouse Wondering why her existence Couldn't be as short she envied the mouse did the mouse envy her, too? Can mice even feel envy? she didn't know And she knew she wouldn't know as she's not a mouse.
For point of context, mice, generally, only live for two years (as a pet) or less (in the wild).
#envy #mortality #poetsonmastodon #tumblr #poetrytwitter #freeverse #shortpoem #mouse #animalmotifs #melancholy