Empty

When lowered into the soil
with the certainty of fear,
in the hollow carved I’ll join
the fellow people I’ve been.

The scars of greedy water
and the forming mountaintop-
amid incapacity
of the limbs that learned to rot.

I’ll have been way too many.
Hated every single one.
Never found a tightened string
to have been myself enough.

-why do I sometimes feel like an infiltrator with no mission?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s