Surly Girlie

Writing to figure things out and just because she likes it

Stupid Sonnet

Riding My Bike at the End of the World

 

In the event of an apocalypse,

I shall hope to have my bike.

And upon its seat I’ll place my hips,

and head into the night.

 

The trees and street will flutter fast

like runaway butterflies fleeing,

and with my bell I’ll twinkle past

those paralyzed with weeping.

 

To the horizon my bike will head

with no thought of return or hope,

and the faster I pedal the less I dread

my neck found in God’s rope

 

And when in my clutches you find this poem,

at least you’ll know I was happy goin’!

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