Anxiety Cricket (a dark, yet humorous poem)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I relate pieces of my life and thinking with a cricket

Submitted: January 03, 2010

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Submitted: January 03, 2010



Feeding words to mouths with a mind

Wondering which was yours and which were mine

Finding time to let myself go

A spontaneous thought that wasn’t anything at all

Like a cricket climbing up the wall

I was sitting inside myself, thinking on my own

Or was I really pacing, worrying all alone?

A river of caterpillars ran up from my toes

Transformed into butterflies and touched my nose

It changed so quickly it seems

Now that I analyze all the little things

But I still rested, like a sick child

Would I improve from this fear so mild?

Could a personality become something so wild?

And then I thought I was the cricket on the floor

He was always falling, always hiding behind some door

Because his feet didn’t grip

He didn’t like change

And he looked at himself and asked, “Why can’t I complain?”

Then in the night he will sing loudly with his legs

And wish he could see his children hatching from silver eggs

But the Raid can sprayed, it felt like shears

I remember I thought about his tears

As the cricket burned and died in my fears.

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