11/25/2018
From the top of my head
To the tips of my toes
I’m worthless to those
Who need a harvest/hardy host
At what day
Did I become this way
What changed, rearranged
When was value replace with shame
I lie here
With unsinkable fear
That the tides of cheer
Have forever disappeared
The riptide won
The moon won’t come
To return the tide’s sum
From the vestige I’ve become