On My Way Here by Nick Ozment

On My Way Here
Nick Ozment

I saw a headless dog,

a car with no driver driving,

a yellow dress fluttering in the wind,

a cloud of sorrow made manifest,

a man who had eyes in the front and back,

a woman with snakes for arms,

a mouth etched in whispering glass.

I came here simply to ask you:

Why do you look at me as if I am mad

When this has become our world?

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