The Throne


I feel as though I’m sitting in glue

Or perhaps some kind of molasses

It’s hard to describe my state of being

How uncomfortable and sore my ass is


I’m comfy and warm this is true

But that is unsettling besides

Because it conceals the unpleasant state

I sit in while it hides


I speak of course of a state of being

Where my mind is in fact

While I’m happy I suppose

There’s joy that I have lacked


I sit and watch the world go by

Happy to miss much of it

While I stay in my comfortable place

Eating food and taking a shit


What I missed I will always know

Some good and some bad

Many things I’m glad to pass

And still some good times were had


To face the truth of yesterday

Is saddening for what it is not

But seeing ahead what won’t happen

While I sit on my ass and rot


As it see it from my fur-lined throne

It is all a broad compromise

Seeing what comes and goes

Through clouded and fading eyes


Barbara Blackcinder

About Barbara Blackcinder

I am a poet/writer with a hunger for words. There are so many out there that I haven't used yet. They define all reality and especially mine when you read those from me.
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