Poets logo

The Scorpion

Writing

By Taylor YoungPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
Like
What Am I Doing?

A Scorpion!

“What?”

Scorpions are the worst,

They take from everything.

The legs of spiders,

Adopted from White.

The claws of a Mi-go,

“Mi-go, never heard of it”

It takes a Love of craft to find it.

Still though with its flat body,

“It’s brown though,

nothing wrong there,”

No, it is green,

Green, flat, and cloth,

Damning thought and dreams.

Even worse with its tail,

Barbed with notes,

even Poe would blush.

Here comes one now,

Gashing into my noise,

bleeding out toxins,

That spill like spider webs,

Ensnaring excrement.

Luggage, “huh?”

Baggage, “HUH?”

one's dirty,

others filthy,

“Either” it’s ether.

“It can be found”

anything can be found,

lose something,

“that’s risky.”

Bukowski would hate this,

“That’s fine, is it not?”

I like him.

And oh! Great!

Another scorpion,

is coming, joy,

“Ah, again!”

with its tail.

I Hate scorpions.

sad poetry
Like

About the Creator

Taylor Young

Hi, I'm a young writer with a writhing hatred for this world but a love of words. Am I unique yet? In all honesty, I just hope someone enjoys what I write.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.