Bee’s Prayer

Poetry

All meaning has left me
Whatever value I once had
Was on loan from the Great Greaseball in the sky –
My lines are squiggled
My signature no longer has those defining shapes;
Somewhere in the past I cut the last investment
Of my soul from my heart and dropped it.
Images of the future that crossed my mind
Are static. Friends I love mere memories between
Meetings that keep me chained to reality.
The life I had: it accepted everything I gave,
Advising that I keep some for myself instead.
I didn’t. Looking into the bleakness of the final
Night I wonder what dreams await in the hour
Before work begins again and again I forget.

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