Four Short Penguins

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They are the only ones who stare awkwardly at me. I am the only one who dares to stare back. Four short penguins with tiny feet and small lives to live. Four who mock me at every turn. Four excuses to un-motivate me. From the igloo next to the glacier I wait, but they don’t leave, they stare, they talk, they laugh.


Their strength is my weakness. They waddle obnoxiously past me, always catching my attention. They yell, I yell back, like the waves crashing against the icy block of a shore. Their anger builds and so does mine.


Let one have his guard down and they all fall. They stick together like all packs of animals. Waddle, Waddle, Waddle, as they get closer. They talk.


When I am too sad, they feed off of it, when I am strong and confident they back off. When there is nothing else left to bicker about, they just stare. I stare back. Four who can’t leave me alone.





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