The mischievous rock

There’s a rock in my room

That floats around my space

It can speak to me, telepathically

Floating in the midst of my dreams

It tells me I’m no good

Dropping itself, repeatedly, on my head

I wake up

Put it ouside, for bad behaviour

But it keeps smashing my window

 

“Not again” my parents say

But it wasn’t me

It was the rock!

See what you’ve done now

 

It keeps smashing against my head

Until I can’t think

I think he wants to get in there

I’ll grab a knife

I’ll split open my head

And let you in

Just don’t tell my parents, okay?

 

 

Author: Jack Bennett

Born and raised in Torquay, England. 21 years old. Teeming with thoughts that need an outlet, working a full time job at his local supermarket. Unfortunately born a poet, he will most likely suffer from this contradiction most of his life.

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