Pickle in a Jar
Poem About Gratitude and Susceptibility
![](https://res.cloudinary.com/jerrick/image/upload/d_642250b563292b35f27461a7.png,f_jpg,fl_progressive,q_auto,w_1024/xy2xa6mu1xpjaz8m2ei6.jpg)
Preoccupation with internal frustration has me pickled in a jar, and I'm not going far. I'm turning sour and cold. Some other being has control. When and where I'm consumed will soon unfold. Can I revive back to fresh? Vinegar in my flesh has cleansed my mortality. As far as morality, some like pickles. I shouldn't trickle on the thought of being forgotten. If I was a cucumber still, I'd be totally rotten by now. I was picked. I was tricked. Went for a swim under the rim. Turned sweet. Under the lid I hid before I bid ado. They chewed me up and swallowed me down, but the looks on their faces were upside down frowns. I admit that this is kind of sappy, but I'm content with the fact that I made you happy.
About the Creator
Alexander Hanebrink
i keep my mind nourished
with thoughts later flourished
fervent in expressing feelings from the heart
before they are perished
i hope they are cherished
words brought to you in a form of art
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