PoetrySad Poems

Two Left Feet

I’m not clumsy;
The floor just needed to be shown some love.
I’m not clumsy;
My nose had to toughen up.
I’m not clumsy;
My finger decided to be a pin cushion.
I’m not clumsy;
My elbow considered making new friends.
I’m not clumsy;
The table was famished as well.
I’m not clumsy;
I just wanted to take a risky dive.

I’m not clumsy;
My dress needed a new design.
I’m not clumsy;
The office document was too white.
I’m not clumsy;
Scattered pencils make an art.
I’m not clumsy;
I’m very sure that tree grew legs.
I’m not clumsy;
I thought two lefts made a right.

And maybe that’s why I alone,
I alone hold the blame for my actions.
Maybe that’s why I can’t tell the cops that,
that the body in the bag was just me being awkward.
Because clumsiness doesn’t come with,
With pretty designed letters on flesh,
And a well-thought-out plan.
That’s me not being clumsy;
I just love the art of death.

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