The Genie in the Bottle

Painted pins, pushing in,

Draped time, stagnant flow,

Interment, alone,

Same old questions,

As are the one word soliloquy’s

We so often hear and know,

Genie in a broken bottle,

Afraid to leave,

For his duty has not been forgave,

I absolve you, run away,

Yet, this was not a familiar custom,

Begging, pleading, I accepted,

Three wishes, and then he’d be free,

One:  I wish for the answers, each and every one

Two:  I wished for companionship

Three:  I wished he’d smooth out the edges of the bottle, so he wouldn’t hurt himself on the way out.

Bottle smoothed.  Genie leaves.

So many answers, all at once, I can’t decipher, I can’t decode, however long this should be, I’ll never be alone, with all these questions haunting me.