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Life story, simplified, by Britta Benson

It rained so hard today, I couldn’t see any world. At one point, I was wondering, if it was still there, somewhere out there, behind the thick curtain of rain. While I was waiting for the world to reappear, I wrote a poem. What else would you do? Here goes.

Life story, simplified

First words of self, absurd,

last sentences of others, heard,

a middle bit and then another,

random paragraphs that don’t belong,

never borrow or steal someone else’s song,

life’s quite like writing, easy, from the inside out,

the official version, a factual fleshless bone,

CVs cannot hold souls, the never to be told,

juice and blood fall off clean sheets,

go for short breathtaking sections, don’t explain,

‘she stood on the top of the cliff

and wondered which way to go next’,

there’ll be repetition, eat, sleep, fill in the blanks,

clutter and useful stuff, just like a very strange attic,

fairy dust only settles on the rough and broken bits,

a page, a hundred, a thousand, how long is happiness?

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