You could absolutely
accept the award
for the worst four years
anyone could endure;
anguished blame
to only entertain
the morose lament
of a brain so scarred
beyond any change.

Opal chains
locked to the bed,
a gentle quarrel
with the cracks in
the floor, a valor
of necessity wasting
the years away,
down the
drain the
rainwater
flowed,
spirals
upon
spirals
until no
more