Mary Shelley, The Story
Mary Shelley, The Story
Everyone looking at the monster, just a raggedly dressed man
Put into motion, never our creation, we only let it out, free to play
Mimicking our motions, like a flower, the story blossoms in all directions
The monster learned joys of life by listening to peasants’ life in a simple hut
The monster is not the monster that is created inside our heartless souls
The hardest message, empower ourselves, without overpowering others
Guided by experience, she wove the first modern science fiction story
Creating powerful supernatural shackles, of our own designs and making
Life comes from the simplest places, even rocks can supply the sparks
Our virtual world we have composed, temporarily, momentarily, inflating egos
Powering most of our creations, our egos, our thoughts, pulling our strings
It doesn’t have to be that way, its only us, can’t blame nature or nurture
Attempting to harness the powers of life, that starts the story rolling
A small part of the tale, but we don’t control life, and never will
Our three dimensional flat world existence, only works by draining life
Real educations replenishes all life, doesn’t include our personal styles of lies
Human first, the ultimate failure of evolution, well documented propaganda
Infinity exists, but what we take in our hands, can take forever to refill
About this poem
Mary Shelley's story was much more than just a story about a monster.
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"Mary Shelley, The Story" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/116874/mary-shelley,-the-story>.
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