Tuesday, February 1, 2011

"The Rug"- A Poem

I look at the rug
Lying limply
On top of the open air vent.

It reminds me of
Struggling to get a taste of oxygen.

I think to myself,
That if the rug can live
With people trampling on it every day,

Their feet
Pushing down on
Its bursting bubble of air supply,

Why can’t I?

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