Man of Mud

[DeirdreScott]

I will give five dollars to the person who can figure out what this poem is really about....




This again, this same old story?
To weary to fight it this time...
You wait each night to be molded
Always wishing for something new, to be reborn.

Your face has become stone - no longer smiling
Smiling that old simple smile I love and miss.
Man of Mud, you used to be so colorful
Glowing with hues of four, beautiful and adored.

But now your pigments are not quite as vivid
because your colors have been torn apart.
Taken away by invisible hands, hands that you love
Your colors exist apart, melting, for they cannot survive alone.

Who knows if they are ever to reunite with each other?
Man of Mud, you have new colors now
But did you forget the ones you had before?

Those precious colors are priceless...
Don't just throw them away!!

Your new colors are not so bright or pretty
and yet they are the ones who tore you apart...

 

[Dastrix Slogan]

I don't think I can claime the 5 dollars, but there was a time in my life where I was easily changed, and was molded into something other than my old happy self by someone else, and changing, but not for the better. And this is what this speaks to me of. Thank You for this.