The Fork Speaks

             The day I wrote this poem, I happened to write two poems about a fork. I found this odd cause a fork is such a random object, but I figured one of the two poems should land on here. I tried to put my self in the shoes of a fork and tried to imagine what it must be like. Actions we think of as normal, can actual be quite weird from a different view point.

The Fork Speaks

I have a gentle soul,

And a strong core,

But all any ones tend to see me as,

Is forceful.

 

My neighbors are simply dipped,

Or even scooped,

But me?

I am made to violently stab.

 

My crown I wear,

I wear it with pride,

But it hurts when I am the only one,

To properly appreciate its beauty.

 

I have no say,

On the adventures I go,

I am just picked up,

And expected to be ready for anything.

 

After I'm used,

I go for a swim,

With the bubbles,

And suds.