Mario Micallef ’22

I find myself so distant from the coastlines of bliss.  

I find myself intertwined within the peels of a gangly soft yellow shell.

What little respect you possess.

Blame, blame, shame, shame; your bottom won’t remain.

There are more of my kind in here, away from over where

you negligent roaming mouths preside.

Amongst the sorrowful crushed red and blue “Pepsi” cup,

slimed coated tissue just to name a few.

We are the persecuted.

Tossed out, it sounds cute when you put it that way.

It sure doesn’t feel cute.

And I should know what feeling cute entails.

I once was displayed magnificently,

adjacent to the register Paula sweetly caresses.

Outdated you called me as you slammed my fragile pages into this death capsule.

Reprisal shall spawn from poisoning your soil.

I tip my ink soaked white tattered page to you.

Plausible, indeed, that I might have done the same misdeed.