When Inanimate Objects Attack

poem by: Rhys Aquinas
Written on Sep 27, 2017

Everyday, it seems to be
That my bedroom door is attacking me.
It traps my hand and hurts my fingers
And it's a pain that just stays and lingers.

Down the stairs, carefully I tread,
Lest I fall, this I dread.
Yet I tumble after I've tripped
And the bottom stair ends up skipped.

Dare I enter the kitchen where the pots and pans do rest.
I just wanted a cup of tea, but the crockery does protest.
It all falls down towards poor me
And then I have to stop it. See?

No-one believes me that the house comes alive,
And to hurt me, the inanimate objects do strive.

 

Tags: Humor,

Add Comment


Valerie Russon commented on Oct 05, 2017 at 7:20pm
I LIKE IT .IT IS FUNNY AND IMAGINATIVE JUST THINK THE HOUSE COMES ALIVE AND THE THINGS IN IT HAVE FEELINGS JUST LIKE US.INTERESTING !

 

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