Yesterday I lost my mind
It must've flew away
Although I searched, I couldn't find
Any trace of it today-
For this squirmy thing they call a brain
I had search up high, down low
But without thought, it was in vain-
What would a body know?
I peeked around the corner
Of my science classroom here
What I saw made me much paler-
I cringed in disgust and fear-
For sitting in a jar right there
Was that thing they called a brain
To face the truth, I didn't dare-
My own mind, oh there it'd lain!
It was pickled in green water
It'd been inspected through and through
It'd been boiled, hotter, hotter,
It'd been carefully dissected too-
And on that shelf, just out of reach
It lazily sat, stared down
My fury rose, my fingers each
I flexed with cracking sounds-
In my rage, I threw a nice big book
At it, fell with a boom
I stomped over to take a look-
Sadly, my mind was ruined.
**Inspired by uninspiration-if you know what I mean by that.**
Very creative and pulling together a thought with an actual event that most of can relate to....I could see the pickled specimen in the jar and smell the formaldehyde or embalming fluid, , , , , ,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a very excellent write leslie. when you can't think of anything to write about, write about it. a most clever way to approach it. i give you a ten and a tipped hat