In their image
Potentially Pretentious Pontification
If I can sing, I must be able to dance.
If I can dance, I must be able to fight.
If I can fight, I must be able to think critically.
If I can think critically, I must not believe in your gods.
If I don’t believe in your gods, I must hold myself accountable for all things, good or bad, in my life.
Do you think that gods hold themselves accountable?
Suddenly, I feel empathy for them.
What I, too, do best is nothing in particular.
Who here would like to see me attempt to contemplate doing a thing?
About the Creator
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Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
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Compelling and original writing
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Immaterial
A faded t-shirt, a three-course meal for moths. I have many. Run-down denim always feels cool to the touch, especially in the morning. The distressed fibers dangling from the holes of my knees give me something to play with when I feel nervous. I don’t regret hopping that fence, even if the blood stain never fully came out. Now stores sell them that way, minus the blood. The illusion of memories made and lives lived.
By Andy Rayner 3 years ago in Poets
Comments (1)
Hi, I like your wicked sense of humour that comes through your piece!