Playground Poem by Adora Williams

Playground



That was a reality far far away
It doesn't mean the pain isn't real, you know
If the circles above are fused onto one another, messed up and
Useless
It doesn't mean the pain right here isn't real, you know
It doesn't mean I caused the bubbles to blow
Seven dimensions
Above
It doesn't matter. The pain is real, you know

It was a reality far far away
I'm as sweet as a kid on the swing feeling the wind
Take care of me
As if I were its offspring
And I am

But there is no swing on the building's playground
There is a seesaw, though, you know
I can only go down, rabbit holes
No one to lift me on the other side
All the other kids are gone
I'm home alone

But I rise
I climb to the other side
Above
As I fall like a fly
Down below

I rise
I rise

It's another day to live, you know

The creation is all that matters
And it doesn't matter if it ends messing up
Circles in the dark sky I no longer know

I wouldn't live any less if I knew the wind I felt too strong
On that allegorical swing
Would cause bubbles to blow up around French concepts in Jupiter

Friday, May 13, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: philosophy,confessional
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