Born Into An Empty Bend

What do you do when the river has run dry, When there is no more blood to bleed, No more tears to weep, Alone in the bend waiting to die.   You can imagine things will get better, A flow of light to guide you through. Or face the realities of waste rather Than try to row the dirt quite so.   Yet I am one with the bend still, Both hollowed out and left for starvation Of love in loveless quicksand til, we reach a point of suffocation.   And realize the same fate we have if we wait, To be rescued, a horrible mistake making death late.