The Egg


People are like eggs in more ways than one.

They can be all different colors on the outside;

Brown, white, even rainbow.

But when you crack one open,

They’re all gross.

They also go through a long process to be ready.

Eggs are cleaned, rolled, and transported.

It’s a wonder they don’t all just


The same goes for humans.

People are pushed through extruders

And shoved into molds

To be transformed into

The “perfect” person.

How people walk around,

With smiles on their plastic faces

Is one of the world’s greatest mysteries.

When baking, the chef

Will separate out the part of the egg

That he deems usable.

People treat themselves as eggs in this way,

Trashing the part of themselves

That they don’t want others to use.

They sift out the clear, bland outer layer,

For the bright and exuberant center.

Or they suck out the middle with a turkey baster,

But when they look back,

There’s nothing left.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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