Painting by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 1871, Source: Wikipedia.


No one asks who left it here,

whose hands placed that inside,

that false expectation, that evil,

tickling, taunting, tugging at strings

dangling my limbs weak and meek,

for I am made of clay, mud mixed

with water, condemned as tainted

before birth, walking a quiet line

forever fluid, unpitied, unanchored,

neither serpent nor mighty dragon,

but a black worm curling in it,

a sink dark, deep, dry, dilapidated,

with that, which, like a bar of soap,

though told to live a normal life,

whose job is to make bubbles.

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