A Hard Shell

A Hard Shell

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live

Where I could have a shell to protect my feelings;

And a soft underbelly for vulnerability;

And feet to be able to swim;

And wrinkly skin;

And strange reptilian eyes;

But instead, that role is stolen from me.

Fuckin’ turtles.

A Hard Shell, Continued

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live

Where I could stand upright, without shame;

And walk where few men dared to tread;

And hands to hold a paintbrush, and type;

And wrinkly skin;

And apeish eyes;

But then I remember,

I am a turtle.

A Hard Shell, Part Three

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live

Where I did not always want to be something else;

And transform myself at will;

And do things differently, and change my fate;

And hate my skin;

And still have a weird thing about eyes;

But then I remember,

I’m actually a turtle-human hybrid.

A Hard Shell, Part Four (This Poem is Getting Too Long)

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to live

Where I did not always write poetry to express my feelings;

And defy the physical possibility of turtles typing;

And find a laptop that fits my needs;

And hate the slowness of Safari;

And love how easy Chrome is to download.

But then I remember.