Uplifting Despair
make way, make way,
for a maiden banished from my desolate plane.
she holds her head high
with her bindle in hand, and nothing in sight.
her countenance? fierce yet seraphic.
like divine judgment, contrite yet panoramic.
i watch you leave with wist—
i know you plan to reel me in,
plotting on me, like i’m an oblivious fish.
so used to my lack of adamant action.
you think of me to be a fish in a well,
though i know that to be aspersions;
i’m much more than just a hopeless whelp
described as nothing more than an accumulation of precipitation.
i am the vast sky, with even vaster aspirations.
Copyright © DeAdrick Baines | Year Posted 2026
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