The marble on my dresser

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
hrm

Submitted: April 11, 2012

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Submitted: April 11, 2012

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Of what use is your bloodline?

Purebred- so what?

Of noble ancestors?

We scoff at you.

You are nobody, you are nobody, you are nobody

More than anybody else.

You are nothing.

Dirt.

Speck.

A grain among dunes.

And one day,

An artisan will come to collect pails of sand

A glassblower will melt it to molten creation

And form, shape, manipulate his canvas

Until he is content

And then where will you be?

Of what use your pedigree?

What has become of your identity?

You are special, you are special, you are special

You are nothing, you are nothing, you are nothing


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