Bag of Blood - Darcy Cunningham

We have many layers held together by skin,

My outermost layer, delicate and thin.

Bone, meat, blood and all that entails,

Even the air we breathe, the stuff we exhale.


More layers underneath, much more compressed.

My soul’s in there too, somewhere depressed.

Peel back my flesh for an image so gross,

Just keep digging, for you’re getting close. 


We all have two sides, a pair of twins,

Where one of them ends, the other begins.

One is physical and the other’s a guest.

A pair of hearts awaits, and resides in my chest. 


The one that’s in charge has something to prove,

The other is forgotten, and told ‘sit back and move’.

Philosophy says our senses are deceitful,

But if that’s all we have, how do we define people?


The one who is loud and always talking,

Isn’t the one who moves, they’re forever just walking.

I feel my body but does it feel me?

My tissue just is, and I tend to agree. 


There’s two sides to all of us, yin and yang,

A bag of blood, and then the whole gang.

They’re all inside chatting so loud,

A lot’s going on, there’s a whole vast crowd. 


My inner pair constantly fighting for truth,

But we’re told what to think, even from youth.

We learn from experience, and find out on our own. 

Hopefully we gather memories until we’re all grown.


Once the time comes and our bodies give out,

Where do we go now? Up there in a cloud?

One twin will live on, carrying the team.

Will we wake up to realize it was all just a dream?

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