Sunken eyes felled

Dripping lost wishes,

Splinter-cracked nails

Scraping dried mud.

Soul stained by insolence,

Ineptitude brought forth

By arrogance: I’d thought

Myself as happy, joyful.

Thinking I was King

When I was nothing but

A court’s jester.

The thoughts bubbled,

Festered to a fever pitch

Until I received one kindly

Gesture; I took it in stride

As a lazy barb, quipped a

Retort to strip

Away dignity.


Salt puddle tears mix with

Nailbed blood at the bottom

Of the hole I dug.

Shivers course my veins,

Missing the usual company.

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