A linguistic explanation of a numerical defeat

Dear Einstein and Pythagoras,

I hate you.


Sincerely,
.M.






37. 73. 13. And the steady 3
I see them in my own decree
But not how they’re supposed to be
The striking seven,
The thoughtful three,
The lonely one.
- a lone marquee-
I hold them dear
But one by one
these numbers- in form
are bringing my world undone.
Regretful but for now I fail
i cry and try but to no avail.
Numbers and words
Share no embrace
even in the time
Of unused space
And I can’t understand
And my mind won’t agree
When I try with my words
To understand the 7’s and 3’s.
It seems the words
That bind my soul
And lace my mind
Now lack control
And still furiously want
To sensationalize
the empty numbers
That are my demise