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Sydney Hale Apr 2016
And now
I’m not so sure.
The field I plowed
Seems to be dying with the coming freeze.
I can’t tell if those sprouts are still growing
And my inexperienced eyes can’t tell if there’s frost on their leaves,
Or new buds

I would ask you,
Seeing as you planted the seeds.
I only tilled the soil,
But your steely gaze is off-putting
And I can’t even see you through all this fog.
I maimed the ground beneath me,
And you showered me with praise.
Now it looks to be bouncing back and
I don’t know if I want it to.
All that hard work for nothing,
Or at least it seems that way.

I shouldn’t have helped you rake the earth.
I shouldn’t have cared for it so much in the first place,
But I sold my land to you
On good faith that I would be compensated
And now
I’m not so sure that I will be.
I can’t tell if I should’ve watered that land
Or if I should keep killing it with my ***.
Open to praise and interpretations :)
Sydney Hale Apr 2016
Virginia, you're a state of mind
A young girl with tussled hair and a warbling voice,
I would've enjoyed kissing someone so kind

But now Virginia, I believe we've both abandoned those thoughts
I can't seem to find you anywhere in this building or this head
Loping along, I wonder if you've drifted off

It means so little, you're late afternoon confession
It's easy to stand around and wonder what could've been
When I ought to be working towards my unsteady profession

Virginia, you're a whim on the wind
One that I dare not belittle or forget or act upon
I hope what you said wasn't meant to make me bend
Just some thoughts about something a girl told me recently.

— The End —