The trauma, confusion and sorrow,
Rushed through my head...
I couldn't move.
Maybe I was shell shocked, or maybe,
I was a pinapple.
When the second eldest descendant of
the Jitzer household beckoned upon me,
I couldn't move.
On the throne of my bed,
I could harly lay -
I remember that day.
I remember that fatal day.
Oh, how could I forget?
Please let me forget!
"Shane! "
I heard a beckoning from above me.
"Shane you fat fockin pinapple - THERE'S NACKERS OUTSIDE! "
Those are the words that resonate within my soul.
They are the defining factors of my life.
So, I wonder,
Am I a man?
Or am I a pineapple?
Are they one in the same?
How could it be?
All this time?
That's why I go sideways through doors!
Because...
I'm a pineapple...
But, pineapples don't last.
Pinapples don't last...
Write comment. Such a nice poem, Sonia Nicola. Read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love Pakistan and I love Pilot JOE.