Whoops, didn’t mean to do that.
Nope. Not you. Error. Fluke.
Blooper. Blunder. Botch. Muddle.
Misfit. Mistake. Mis-take.
Miss Take it on out of here
we don’t want your type. Who
or what do you think you are
anyway? Some mixed up,
false step, waltz when everyone
else is doing the cha-cha?
What drummer’s beat do
you hear anyhow? This
world isn’t rose colored, but
you go on with a goofy smile
on your face, hoping everyone
will treat you the way you treat
them, with the benefit of a
first timer’s trust right out at
the start, dancing your way
to an open door and your
heart on a thin transparent
sleeve. House open to anyone
not quite fitting in, you sole
aberration some angel carved
out of silly putty instead of
clay, how do you go on one foot
in front of the other when this
cruel world keeps hitting you
harder? Where are the daisies
to your thorned stems? Where
the water to quench a thirst for
kindness? How do you dance
in a still, silent world of
division? Earth is God’s
oversight and we are the bungled
creations suffering because of
it. Yet you get up and seek
the sun, gather rain drops over
cracked earth, spread rainbows
that envelop clouded skies. Oh,
free soul, Miss Take, how do you
go on when the world is so
heavy? And can you teach me,
show me the way, so that I
can do the same?
