Kidnapped

Dug up a silly poem I wrote about five years ago. When I didn't take life too seriously - a lesson that 'older and wiser me' needs to constantly relearn. What's funny is that I didn't even have a job back then, yet I seemed to attach immense value to having one. Here goes -



I'm being held hostage
By my own
I wonder how he has the heart
It's probably made of stone.

His legs are strong and sturdy
But his back is soft like his belly
For years, he's barely moved an inch
Just plonked in front of the telly.

During nights when I was cold,
He warmed up like a microwave
We shared laughs, tears, secrets
One's we'd promise to take to our grave.

Yet, today I lay trapped
Between him and the ceiling
After all these years of apathy,
He's chosen NOW to feel a feeling?

Giving up, I dialled my boss
And you know what I said?
"Sorry, I won't be in today.
I've been kidnapped by my bed."