#WritcoPoemPrompt104

Sometimes Life is like
a page flipped too quickly
that you crane your neck
like a giraffe
and barely catch a sight

Like cold, stale food
you glared at it
taking it in piece by piece
arranging and rearranging all
and never find the strength to eat

Or it can be some sawdust
stuffed into some heart of silk
or a rattling car for all I care
clogging up my tiny-weeny
tin-made brain of its sad hollow state

Often voices like stomped grass
loitered about my ears in the wind
blowing into dry cellars of my mind
I looked at myself too closely
the windows filled with straw
© Elvin