Sometimes, the thought of eggs
Does not flatter my bubbly, gurgling stomach.
I am sure you can relate.
I can relate to an egg.
Some days, I am white,
but a vibrant sun in the middle of me.
Some days, I am clear,
my happy yellow being my only color.
But some days,
I am scrambled.
I am a mix of yellow,
A mix of white.
Jumbled up and flipped around,
a spatula shoving me when I run.
I am accompanied
by milk & mustard.
They too are white and happy yellow.
But they too are whisked together
They get jumbled up with me and shoved about.
Have you ever noticed
That happy, vibrant yellow
Make a yucky pale yellow?
The thought of scrambled eggs ---
It sometimes makes my stomach gurgle.
Share This Poem
This Poems Story
Connects with anxiety, depression, bi-polar, confusion, and insecurities.