The Poet
The Poet was wasted.
Like leftovers after lunch.
A plate of wilted salad.
A half eaten burger, soggy with ketchup.
A cold limp fry.
He wanted someone to pay attention.
Savor, digest and appreciate him.
But they spat him out,
cleared the plates,
and threw him in the dumpster.
E.G. Maynard.
46 & 2.
3.
Copyright © Trace Baldwin | Year Posted 2016
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