And now, here is yet another poem. Yay! This one is delving complex psyche of an ordinary table chair, describing its pain and suffering through a first person point of view. No one really thinks about the complicated feelings of inanimate objects, and I hope this poem leads you to do just that.
Oh, the horror, the horror!
Not again, please, no!
I’m begging you, please,
Just listen to me.
I’m always here, day after day,
Waiting for you.
But I dread your return
Because then, I can no longer breathe,
For you sit on my face.
No, I am not just another table,
Here for your convenience.
I am a chair, and you are sitting on my face.
Yet despite my protests, here I stay,
For although I have legs,
I can’t move and run away.
I can’t take it anymore, I’m about to scream.
I am ready to tell you
All my pain, my suffering.
But alas, I cannot,
For I am nothing.
I am just a chair with no voice.
I have no way to tell you how I feel.
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