Cute ringlets cascaded from his fingers
Under the moonlight they looked like the most delicate chains
Realizing he was as captive to her now as if those were real chains around his wrist
Looking into her eyes he knew he never wanted parole from this sentence
She smiled that cute little smile of hers and said…
Vinyl jacket? Check.
Indigo blue Hawaiian shirt? You bet!
Nice pair of alligator slip-on loafers for the win.
Those corduroy bell bottoms would make it even nicer.
And the gold chains dangling added just the right amount of bling
Give me that fedora and the biggest feather you’ve got
Everything here might be old, but so am I so therefore it’s all…
Putting her words out there in the interwebs
Opened herself up to all sorts of criticism
She smiled as she watched her retweets and replies exploded
The more she yanked their chains, the more they gave her satisfaction
So she cracked her knuckles and began her next trolling
Reading through the want ads looking for something to do.
Everyone wanted experience, and I haven’t done the time.
Perhaps in the past I would have lied and tried my best.
Learning what I could before I was given my parole.
And applying that knowledge to the next economic sentence.
Can’t believe no matter where I go, there I would chains waiting.
Eventually the robots will come and take all of it away.
Destroying our way of life and setting us free, but to do what?
Leaving the chains behind is just the start
It means helping the formerly enslaved stand up
Being there to lend a hand in moving forward
Enabling them to not only survive but thrive
Reach for those hands across the divide
Trust that the world will be better in the long run
You can help bring justice for all
Image: thumbs.dreamstime.com/b/rust-iron-ball-chain-open-cuff-hanging-white-background-restrictions-limits-d-illustration-loss-freedom-100318340.jpg
Her world was pitch black darkness. Actually, it was darkness and water, but after not breathing for so long she didn’t really notice the wetness. She didn’t have a concept of time, but she did know her chains hand rusted and broken a while back.
She felt around the floor of her prison and found a large stone. She picked a spot she thought was the same as last time and began hammering. It might take millennia to get through, but she had that and more. Still, she hoped she had picked the right direction. She didn’t relish chipping her way through Mount Torlock.
That’s when she heard a muffled noise to her right. She shifted her attention and started to hammer there. She had been pointing in the wrong direction. How long had she been off course?
Suddenly there was an explosion of sound. Light poured into her prison as the water poured out. She shoved herself out of the hole, reborn again into this world, and this time she would do the swatting. Before any swatting could occur, though, she retched up the water in her lungs and stomach next to her. Not the start she had imagined…
Image: polytec.com.au/img/products/960-960/pitch-black.jpg
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 