poem

 Poem #34This is the poem of my lifeIn it everything will be perfectNothing will flowNot a word will rhymeIt will lack articulable meaning People will be so angrySuch words were inscribedOthers will laugh What the hell, they ’ll askThis sheet of whiteUsed to be so clean,Who ’s smudged it all up?Shake their heads and walk awayFor them, it ’s a strange languageOr just a lousy translationIt ’s not my fault thoughThey don't really see it Not the way I doI find it beautiful My first goalMy truest laughMy favorite song It ’s not my fault at allI didn ’t even write it It was just the wordsThat were here all along 1/12/22

Source: Buckeye Surgeon - January 12, 2022 Category: Surgery Authors: Jeffrey Parks MD FACS Source Type: blogs