This piece is inspired by Baker’s Introduction Poem
The meetings
The idealists
Oh how annoying
Hands waving
Pick me, me , me
Machine gun firing ideas
Who is gonna get down
and carry out the plan
And who will pick up the pieces
scattered around the finish line
At least
I have control over poetry
I started one
and I definately finish it
Even sometimes it reads rubbish
I may not get recognised for brilliance
I certainly get a medal for persistence
I ranted
like bursting a pimple
What a relief
I know I am not special.
If I were,
I would have read a poem
that you wrote especially for me
on my birthday
because you are a poet
and a damn great one.
I know I am not special.
If I were,
I would have heard you ask me
“What can I do to make your loss feel
more bearable?”
because you do
have a compassionate heart.
I know I am not special.
If I were,
I would have seen
the action after hearing
“I am sorry.”
because action speaks
far louder than words.
I know I am not special
despite how many ‘I love you’s
and justifiable reasons.
I don’t buy it!
Because my heart
feels like an insignificant speck of dust
floating on the ultra unrealistic
social media platform.
Flicker of Thoughts 