Tinkerbell’s Lament

It makes me so angry that I am an option not a priority.
What the hell is the matter with you? Don’t you understand what you’ve got?
Don’t you know I am who?

I am not the third of your three wishes.
I am not the prank Lotto card.
I am not the short woman behind the emerald green curtain begging you to click your ruby slippers.
I am the finish line and I am the start.

I am the binding of your unwritten book,
I am the lyrics to your song
I am the misdirected woman you have lost
I know where you belong.

You don’t realize your place in the grand scheme of life. You are not only dust to fairy dust.
You are special. You are wanted. You’re not the minus you’re the plus.

Take off that mask of bravado
Your surliness turns no one on.
It’s a sad symptom of all the anger you wallow in
Feel the reaping of what you have spawned?

The future isn’t never-never land.
In your world asking is intruding
No asking, no communication, no understanding
In your self-imposed Tower of Babylon.

You bark about the entitled, yet you live your life “as if”.
Work is not a four letter word,
but nihilism is

Hurry and
Break the Bukowski bondage
seek your own happiness.

Don’t you know?
Don’t you know?

You’re a grown up Peter
Panning for another’s fool’s gold.

Open wide
Eat and Drink, then try very hard to see
It’s not too late, it never is
to find a star and maniacally swing

There they are
See them?
Fallen, shooting, sucked into a black hole

Grab one now! Love is precious!
Before you get too old.


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