Sometimes, it seems

that things can’t get worse.

The times when dreams

are smooth tongued liars who do not curse.

When it seems as if

the point has be reached,

when the bottom of the cliff

at the bottom of the valley has been breached,

then the only direction

that is left is up.

But a cross section

shows many caves, like roots in a lineup.

Roots that are not very hard to find,

and dealt with wrong, lead to becoming blind.

This entry was posted in NaPoWriMo, poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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