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Greedy sheep

by Meagan Green

Gravel lies underneath wool snow
shaved off sheep who don't know
how to translate between the weather report
and their own natural
nervousness,
excitement...

maybe I am a sheep.
Perhaps you areĀ…

Shovels dig through soft ice
shaved off a spectacular display of
incorrect atmospheric conditions created
solely by the sweet natural
greediness,
fear of change.

Delicious how we go up hill.
Maybe we do not.
Our manifestation of destiny
will destroy the ground beneath us,

and since time is an illusion,
we have already fallen into hell.

09/05/2007

Posted on 09/06/2007
Copyright © 2024 Meagan Green

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 09/06/07 at 05:12 AM

I love that second to last stanza. I just love it sounds, how it reads. It's just great imagery.

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