Calf consciousness

Yesterday I did sports with all my might,

Now my skin feels way too tight.

I fell asleep tired and satisfied,

While something awoke right by my side.

That something was my left calf muscle

Gaining consciousness without the slightest rustle.

A new mind born in the middle of the night,

Stuck to my leg, thus filled with spite.

How would you feel as a newborn life,

Who had a knee act as the midwife?

Existential crisis as its first thought,

It became desperately overwrought,

Died of emotional traumatic stress,

Returned to its previous lifelessness.

Later I woke up to break my fast,

Oblivious to everything that  had just passed.

I Noticed, what looked like dried up tears,

The kind containing the sadness of years.

Shrugged and paid it no more mind,

My head was already me-me-me-lined.

 

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Flesh eating moose

Nine hundred pounds of hairy and smelly,

Muscles everywhere except on its swollen belly.

The head held high and two feet higher,

Horns of steel sharp like razor wire.

The part that’s abnormal is in its hard head,

A normal moose doesn’t want you dead.

Flesh eating moose is a northern quirk.

For a thing so big, it knows how to lurk.

When you’re picking berries blue or cloudy,

It’s behind the bushes just thinking “Howdy,

You look tasty with your tender meat,

The last thing I’ll eat are your tiny feet.”

Seventeen thousand people in a year,

Succumb, in the forests, to the ancient fear.

It’s no wonder it’s a god in the north.

Just his image brings our tears forth.