Please Don't Understand

 

Please Don’t Understand

I 

You ask me how I am and I say great.

Let’s leave it there, shall we?

No need to pry.

II

So, you saw me with a shovel last night. That doesn’t mean I killed anyone, not necessarily. Not everyone with a shovel and muddy boots is burying a body. If you must know, I am digging out a time capsule. Or, at least, trying to. It was here somewhere, I have been searching for days. Nights, rather. Why I do it in the middle of the night? Well, to avoid questions like these, that’s why. What was inside? Oh, nothing special, just some meaningless junk. Scraps of paper. Yes, a poem I tore up. I could put the scraps together, it still wouldn’t mean anything to you. Because it is in a language you don’t understand. Yes, I know there is Google Translate now. It wouldn’t help, though. Because I made the language up. But even if I found the time capsule, even if I put the poem together and read it to you, even if I translated it, it still wouldn’t make sense. It was just a bad poem, that’s what it was. Why I buried it? See, that’s something I don’t intend to tell you. You wouldn't understand, even if I did, but I won't.

GloPoWriMo Day 18