Image by Bessi from Pixabay

Kafka

Here I am awake, again, this late night,
Processing thoughts with all my might.
Want to write with a wee wit,
To turn this tale a tad tenable.
I typed two stories, an allegory,
Another was a fable,
about a cat who crossed the road
but..the plot never thickened
Was it a bad omen?
Or does it have to be a chicken?
The cat spoke — “Hey hooman…
You’re getting yourself into a pickle,
Sitting there with a twisted ankle”.
This new life, this new cage,
I find myself turn into an insect,
It is dreamy, it is transient,
It is twisted, it is Metamorphosis.
They might never call me a smart fool,
Don’t let this go over like a lead balloon.
If you want to hear about the lore,
you can find Kafka on the Shore.