The Sock

Here is a poem about reincarnation and death and socks that I threw into the washing machine.

I wrote it while sitting in front of the washing machine watching everything spin and I thought of how sad those socks must be.  Stains on shirts are like memories and the washing machine brutally and violently rips these memories away from the beings.  It is a sad thought to think.  I was crying as I wrote this.  One sentence in this paragraph is a lie and it is not this one.

They threw me into the machine

Smothered with others of my kind

They set the evil thing in motion

And it shook and it spun

And then the water started pouring in

The dreadful water

It had the bubbles that stung

Oh no oh god

It burns

Pain

Excruciating Pain

My memories

Fade

Dying

Help

Pain

Death

Pain

Help

HELP

NO

I feel the door open and they pull me out

The world is bright

I know not my past

No memories

But I rise with sparkles to greet the world.