Notes to unforgiving things that don’t read [Oprihory]  

The nutcracker can chip my soul that often smells of rotten emotions but not my thoughts that pass undetected through reality realms.

Note to rotten emotions that refuse to sublimate : You should start using deodorants as your stink results in my bones cracking.

Note to bones that crack like porcelain dolls : There’s a reason I feed you so much calcium, so you better endure the storms with dignity.

Note to dignity : I am sick of spelling you out like an abstract noun, why don’t you become a hyperbole as you already seem exaggerated today.

Dear hyperbole, You are a synonym for me.

Dear you, Let not hopes fool you. There is far more to life than mere alliterations of stupidity.

Note to hopes : You don’t deserve more than Author Notes.

Dear Author Notes, Couldn’t you read the author’s mind and instead serve as statutory warnings? ( You shall be valued more that way)

Note to Warnings : Be seen before the disaster, unlike horror movies.

Dear horror movies, try being horror next time.

Note to time : Don’t be Usain Bolt when it comes to happy times.

Dear happy times, do come.

Dear come, come before my reader wearies out.

Dear Reader ( finally), Poetry is more than just rhymes. It is a quill that spills when full and breathes when empty. 

Every time my dignity falters, I muster up loose crumbles of my hope and wear it like some stitched soul that can gather storms in its frills.


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