Once long ago
I was complete
fully intact
Some yesterpast
I was human
fully endowed
Then you removed
parts of my soul
bits of my heart
pounds of my flesh
slice by thin slice
you reshaped me
And reformed me
Pygmalion
and Frankenstein
to be your dream
and my nightmare.
dissatisfied
with the results
you discarded me
as defective
curbside pickup
I forsaken
unusable
catastrophic
detritus of
human failure
You can’t be real
- expecting that
I would forgive
every slice
ignore each small
amputation
forget the pain?
I am still here
waiting my time
I didn’t die
or disappear.
I’m only wounded
I’m only broken
I’m only mad.
Completely mad
and fully able.
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Aren’t we all? Mad that is -
Indeed
Broken and bloodied, maybe, but unbowed.
completely mad and fully able… very nice ending to this emotional poem
pffft. Not sure why I feel the need to say that. Maybe because it is a cranky Monday
double pffft and pshhhhht
Completely mad is a plus, fully able is another plus…nice isn’t it, such positivity?
Oh, this is a dark one. I like that you ended with “completely mad and fully able”, though. It feels like you’re setting up for a revenge poem.
Always puzzle pieces, some missing. I say that now what ever marbles I have left are as smooth as they once were. Watching relatives age I am fascinated by the mind. What they want to do, can do and wish they could still do. And I try very hard not to think about that that could be me soon enough. That’s what that last line speaks to me. I agree with pffft.
Cheers.
My only response to this is an urge to give you a hug.
consider it virtually delivered
Thank you the warmth of the thought is cheering in itself.