Childhood Memories

I sit, in front of my old music box
cross legged, on my single bed
the small piece of porcelain
emitting a familiar tune

i've had it since I was a nipper
Beatrix Potter character
reading a story
to no one, but me.

each chime of a plucked metal note
taking me back to my childhood
tinny sound, drowning out the world
I ignore everything else

I wish i knew
what the tune was
and at the same time
I don't

Lovely thing, the human race

Man
has one talent above all others
not industriousness
not money management
not the talent to help
nor give aid
or ambivalence

it is
the unrelenting power
to destroy
everything
beautiful
in
the
world.

cunts