Sliced and Diced
You wanted me served up on a platter.
Sliced and diced a pretty display,
A delicate dish to savour, consume.
Slowly pick my bones clean.
And suck the marrow of my soul,
Divest me of my self-hood,
To hang me out to dry, desiccate,
In the flames of your disapproval.
But instead forged, in that fierce heat,
A strong tough blade, a suvivour.
poem by Paul Brookes
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.