Waste
~My soul,
A Melted kettle,
A broken tray.
Cannot grow, nor renew.
Stew in pain~
A pelted pedestal,
The tea, it spilled, flew.
A chosen battle lost, metaphorical to say.
Sky is grey~
My soul stew
What a wasted mettle, what a broken day~
Copyright © Jeffrey Howey | Year Posted 2024
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