New year, new idea for poems. I can imagine there being a lot where this came from, but no promises.
Shall I compare you to a coiled snake?
Or perhaps to twin snakes, that both lie tangled?
No, I shall not; serpents seem no mistake.
They’re keen and powerful, not frayed or mangled.
Shall I compare you, then, to a mousetrap
That lies in wait to catch the hopeless mice?
Mousetraps can be improved by skill or hap
They say, but you are regressive, not nice.
Once others stood where you, now helpless, lie
With such aid by my side, I proudly stood.
And now I fumble. Incompetent, I
Scorn you at risk to me. You’re still no good.
How am I ever going to get places
If I do not care about my shoelaces?