Poemetry by T.A. Barnhart


i think,
i am.
how fair
is that?
did i ever
ask for
a brain
that thinks?
i was given
no choice.
it was shoved
into my skull
and i was told
to live with it.
deal with it.
survive it.
i’d happily trade
all the crap
that splatters
across my brain
for a pair
of wings
to soar
the sky.
the only thought
i’d ever want
is to know
“this is lovely”
as my wings
spread wide
to catch
an updraft
and let me
sail high
and free.

©TA Barnhart August 24, 2020