The Leftovers
They took the last paintbrush with nothing in mind.
Just the canvas and who else stomps in.
I have a lot of leftover blooms.
Just trampled on like they do.
The forest is when.
I have another paintbrush in mind.
And evaporate.
The last thing they would trample on.
Deflated for the last time.
I have a band aid.
Just the canvas and.
Got mangled.
I like it when.
The forest is a bank account.
Just leaves pressed against the graves.
They took it.
Trampled on.
Like leftovers.
For no reason.
Has a lot of holes.
The last paintbrush they took.
Got trampled on, mangled, evaporated.
Just like when.
The leftovers.
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