A flawed somersault, splayed legs arms grasping the air. Didn't any teacher have the diction to express "tuck and roll"? For, a somersault is nothing like a cartwheel, which requires balance to say the least. I'm sure the physics of one of these moments have crept their way into at least one of our horrifying and memorable life experiences. Just explain it better, Bitch! could most likely have been the thought going through my mind as, for the fourth and consecutive time, my somersault drove me onto the cold, hard gym floorboards. It wasn't as if I had to create the shape of a pretzel by contorting myself viciously; rather, it was more like taking a hit out of a crisp bong then crushing your foes in a match of Super Smash Bros TM.
Supple sun, I feel you from beneath this atmosphere,
the hill I lay is raised and dozen daisies,
dazed drunk in the splendor spewed, the rays.
Open field following in time, time creates lazies
like you and I and those who can preciously doze,
divulge our secrets discovered in life's jet stream.
Along the cuirass'd grass soft whispers caress
our ears soothed secreted sentences, eyes beam.
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