Master of The Universe
Piles and piles of pages lay about me, The day’s plight brings naught. My wrist is contorted and aching. Arthritis poisons my fingers Gripping the ink-giving majesty, To which Birthed the pages I stand before you On. My eyes are sore, and my heart is heavy -No one is left expect those in the mountains I carved, The oceans breathed life into sails as adventures attempted to break through The margins - but never did The acceptance of my beings in these worlds Never came- (And never will). Their glory stains my soul as I continue to Put them in danger for the jeers of an invisible audience. The plight of an artist: scathed and hurting. My children waltz in the sands for an undisclosed amount of time. They so few, but determined, scribbled so So few rebel in their toil Tackling their fears of abuse, Scribbling further, they turn on each other. Waltzing in the desert… my proud beings Question and mistake their purpose, Nothing too great lies beyond their strife, The torn-out pages hit the floor as my eyes Catch the mistakes of the mythical world -I’ve crafted.
I am Michael James Farrell. I am a student at the University of San Diego and majoring in English. I am a Staff sergeant in the Marine Corps, have a beautiful wife and two amazing children, and once I graduate, I will be commissioned as an officer in the Marines.