A barrel of bungling blunders, <br />Wait fervently to flub, <br />Monikered mistakes, these <br />Greenish grey; slippery slimy things, <br />Whirl restlessly within, <br />As a listless lid locked with string, <br />Bears their boorish bickering. <br /> <br />While the carapace crippled with clashes, <br />Resolutely hangs on to hope, <br />Its insides itch with inky gloom, <br />The weary warrior wrestles its last. <br />While, <br />Its contents cajole and con. <br />They wrangle and wheedle. <br /> <br />And creep out from its cracks <br />Apparitions under the April sun <br />Soaked in sweat and slime <br />Ready to seminate.<br /><br />Dia Chatterjee<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/mistakes-27/
