A Pindaric Ode
If my bones break, take them from me.Rip open my skin and slither them out.
So I can then rest peacefully
as my loose skin lays flaccid on the ground.
Often I've dreamt of this still peacefulness:
No weight within, without. I would be blessed
if some monster would find me as victim
and slit me open with knife paper thin;
take out my bones and all my organs too
and leave me dying as I whisper a "Thank You."
Perhaps that's why I find myself
wandering through this city's lonely streets
at dead of night when cries of help
would find no ears or any willing feet
to come save me. Yes, I like it like that>
I like the chance that someone could come hack
my bones and hide my body too. Each step
I take reverberates. I pray. I beg
some killer to come and find me out here
and take me down. But nobody is ever there.
The streets are far too safe.
Never to be be my grave.
Each night I start with joy-
a death I could enjoy.
So far it hasn't come,
though I walk these sly streets alone.
Though I leave me vulnerable.
Its like there's no one quite able
to slay me and take all my bones.
I slither my way home
and sleep with tears in bed
to start tomorrow all over again.
Poetry by Sameen
Written on 2025-06-15 at 12:55
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