A mark across the fence.
Don't let the wrong ones in.
I'm begging to begin.
To wander will depend
If I'll ever move again.
I'm hanging up my limbs.
Tired.
Oh, so tired
From all the events
That transpired.
To carry on will only do me wrong,
So I must retire.
Better stop when the getting's good.
I was childish, a common fool
For thinking seeds could grow.
I planted them so deep in soil
That eventually they spoiled.
I stood waiting for the sprouts to show.
They breached an empty host
As I abandoned post.
Was there ever life below?
Rotting in the soil,
My limbs have all recoiled.
I guess I'll never know.
- afm
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