If it wasn’t for a world so barren,
I would try to measure up in ways
I never did before.
I don’t recount how many times
Or where it all started
When it started to build
The bottle broke, and I
Succumbed to the disease and
Became an outcast
But more really,
Like a hermit.
I always pull that card
In tarot, and it
Makes me reminisce
In former ways,
That were oh so, benevolent.
No malicious intent.
Only peace, prayer, and keeping my demons
At bay, instead of being down
WIth them.
On some dimension under the earth
Where it smells like petrichor,
And I’m pulling up daisies.
