caterpillar.

it is not my fault and it is not their fault,

but still it bites and it burns like a cut full of salt

 

now i live in the vault,

with a knife in my hope and their names in my throat,

so how the hell do i cope?

 

for every corner i turn,

there’s a lesson to learn,

a lesson to sink, gain, obtain, and discern

 

and the last thing i need

is a pity committee

treating me like a suffering city

 

no, I don’t want your mercy

I am not your damn charity

so go ahead and be judgy

because it’s all fair to me

 

and though on my face there’s a frown

this will not be Our Town

 

I will endure this defeat

treasure all I can keep

and land only on my feet

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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