what's a minor
setback to a major
league failure?

wallow in despair,
a weeping willow
desperate on never
making things right

sinking further
into the bowls of the
earth, begging
every seed to bloom
and burst

but what of love
for the self? like
ancient books
buried deep
in the shelves

never to be read,

blue as the sky
when it bled;

the mind petrified and
dried out,
pregnant with dread

what is preparation
to the being desperate
for death?

you don't know,
but you speak like you do

and that, my friend

is the end.