Addiction
Did the scarecrow ever leave Oz,
put his new brain in a bucket by the door
like an unwanted umbrella,
then go jogging back down the yellow brick road
to his post in the cornfield?
Did the crows again mock him,
marking his truancy like a flock of high priests,
their caw of unforgivenness invoking an evil wind
to carry it over the Emerald City,
shattering dreams into a million green shards?
Copyright © Chetta Achara | Year Posted 2021
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