Don't throw them away you don't know what is inside

Behind locked doors, windows bared, lies a mind marred

A painter with no hands, deaf mute no one understands

But with nary a smile the green grass does all beguile 

And without a word we're charmed by the song of a bird

When eggs are stacked some get cracked

A chick emerges from a shell that looks like hell

While in the pan scrambled eggs for mercy begs

Don't throw them out inside voices plead to our doubt

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

For me, this is a metaphorical wonder... read three times, trying to see what I could read and realise that.. a rose is not a rose nor a rose nor a rose.. any more than egg can be thought of whole when deep in the hottest of hot water.

[Soren]

Thank you Emmajoy for the review and you are so right a metaphor it is. The old saying that you can't tell a book by its cover applies here.