Caren Krutsinger Poet Free verse

Unlucky Unhappy Me

Invisible predators steal my soul
taking me to a bowl of stale potato chips
dunking me down beneath the cigarette butts
That were not ever well-hidden in the bottom

Plunking me down firmly with their beady
little hands and their alien eyes.  Laughing maniacally
while I thrash around, trying to get free 
Then they grab me up having a better idea

And plunk me face down, bound but not gagged,
Which would have been invariably better,
into a smallish bowl of cold, half-eaten oatmeal.
I die ungracefully, and irritated.

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Rhona Mcferran July 31, 2019 at 8:36 PM Oh wow, what a horrible end! It's so creatively penned that I must FAV it, although I hope it is creative fiction and not a metaphoric truth! :O Caren Krutsinger August 1, 2019 at 9:58 AM It is not the truth YET but I can smell them, they are around the corner, waiting for me to come out.

Kurt Ravidas July 31, 2019 at 2:16 PM I live ungracefully and irritated, bound like a half-eaten oatmeal. Your poem was sent me to comfort, Caren. Caren Krutsinger August 1, 2019 at 9:58 AM I am so glad Kurt. It was meant to comfort people. NOT!

Panagiota Romios July 31, 2019 at 10:13 AM A very creative write Panagioota Caren Krutsinger August 1, 2019 at 9:59 AM Thank you my friend. I was in such a mood yesterday!

Kim Rodrigues July 31, 2019 at 8:32 AM Wow, the imagery here is deeply dark and depressing. Well done. Hope you are doing better than this. Sending you some flowers by carrier pigeon ;) Caren Krutsinger August 1, 2019 at 9:59 AM I am doing a lot better. When I am truly down, the poetry is not like this at all. It is non-existent.