Socks on My Hands
Am I that funny? maybe not
Socks on My Hands
I wore my socks on my hands today.
The cat stared. Did I scare it?
Or did it just judge me silently.
I spilled my tea. Of course.
The dog laughed. I think.
Why am I like this.
The toast jumped out of the toaster.
It landed butter-side down, naturally.
I tripped over my own shadow.
Even my reflection looked concerned.
I tried to call a friend, forgot the number.
The fridge hummed like it was mocking me.
I sneezed and the spoon on the counter fell.
Is this what adulthood feels like.
Or am I just cursed with small, ridiculous chaos.
I laughed at myself until I cried.
The cat blinked once, judging still.
The dog wagged like I was a genius.
Maybe chaos is just my super power.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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