My bucket

Before, I'd scream that I was swell
Or blue, depressed or ill
But now my answers' sharp and honed
My bucket shalt not spill
And when you shake and slap me
If I'm knocked upside the head
The liquid stays inside the bucket
Safe tucked in it's bed
It used to spill out all the time when it really wasn't proper
But I've invested pain and months in a very hearty stopper
The problem is it just won't budge even when my ground's not shaking
So if I smile or cry to you just know that I am faking


 
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ZoeBee

VT

18 years old

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  • Poetry

    By ZoeBee

    1893

    It was just a fluke that I happened to see

    The ghost of a girl in 1893

    I didn't think much of her, tried to ignore

    But then she came 'round in 1894

    A spirit was not something that I had wanted

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  • Poetry

    By ZoeBee

    Papercuts

    Did you know that, when you wrote me, I was made of papercuts

    That I was ink and glue and wax but mostly, I was papercuts

    Did you know that, when you read me, I am made of memories

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