Falling Off the Edge: by Elizabeth Mitchell

Has central pain changed the shape of your entire world? Another contribution by a central pain sufferer.

Falling Off the Edge

A perfect gift, that little pink wagon
Silver wheels, decals that glued on
The order of life was never greater
Secure the guidelines of my mother

Mother taught me, be a good girl
And so I was, and so was my world
Matched, I thought, to rightful deeds
Were fit rewards which met my needs

A simple plan, obey the rules
This the direction, these the tools
Certain the world which you live on
blank spaces on the map are gone.

Humans fear the unknown dreads
Menaces inside their heads
Scylla and Charybdis spinning
Kraken’s feeding time beginning

Some people hold to foolish notions
Like ancient sailors on the oceans
The early cartographic shaper
Thought the world must fit his paper

Rolling on its steady course
while gravity, the ordered force
paid no mind to Superstitions,
Kings, Philosophers or Nations

Flat earth talk was really silly
Stupid, dumb, and willy nilly
The monsters drawn along the edge
where ships turned back, full of dread

The circular round earth made sense
Why peer into the fog so tense