Life is funny,
toss me into the sea,
rough me up,
knife my heart half a dozen time.
Make me run like hell for pancakes and butter,
Tasting the saltiness of the sea,
watching waves crash on me.
Kites above so low,
clouds dance like rainbows,
kissing the air as it hits my face,
watch the world spin in hyper speed.
hold a strangers hand,
slap a tree,
see the impossible.
jump off the plane,
and make love like it's never happening again.
Life is Funny.
Why torture ourselves.
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Comments about this poem (Torture Ourselves by Dislocated Heart )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
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(14 December 1895 – 18 November 1952)
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(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
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