Tired of breathing.
What an unceasing bother,
That I learned to do, proper,
From the day I was born.
That first breath, I realize,
May have galvanized
Onto their maiden voyage of cries.
Sick of breathing by now.
I’ve done it enough already,
Millions stacked on millions
Call me an expert.
Sometimes I take breaths fast
Then faster comes the next one after.
Shouldn’t be expected to breathe anymore.
I demand credit
For the breathing zealot
I’ve been in the past.
Recognize my dispassion.
Allow me to cash-in
On my previous, automated, exertions.
My calories should be devoted to
Greater things I’ll be promoted to.
Quit this layman’s triviality, I will,
For I’ve surpassed this animality of skill.
Refuse, I do, to draw another breath;
To waste my precious time reeks of wickedness.
Obviously the title is a pun based on “A Modest Proposal”. I also wanted to do a satirical poem based on those people who complain and feel put out by doing the simplest of tasks in life. They may as well complain about breathing, I thought to myself one day. And this poem was born.
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Listen to A Modest Refusal (FFP Poem) by Fitful, Phantasmal #np on #SoundCloud