deepundergroundpoetry.com
Thrilling, Terrifying Change
Why, again, do I have to choose
When for most, my age,
the time for choosing is over?
Decisions once thought concrete
prove to be thin ice thawing.
A life planned, practically, womb to tomb
until fickle fate bursts into the room.
Exhausted, trying to convince others of my worth
once imagined self-evident.
Selling myself when I thought
all sales were final.
My edge, getting duller,
begrudgingly cuts through
a new morass of tedious red-tape.
And if love comes knocking,
again, on my door
perhaps I’ll slice into
newly baked wedding cake
When for most, my age,
the time for choosing is over?
Decisions once thought concrete
prove to be thin ice thawing.
A life planned, practically, womb to tomb
until fickle fate bursts into the room.
Exhausted, trying to convince others of my worth
once imagined self-evident.
Selling myself when I thought
all sales were final.
My edge, getting duller,
begrudgingly cuts through
a new morass of tedious red-tape.
And if love comes knocking,
again, on my door
perhaps I’ll slice into
newly baked wedding cake
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