Just when I think the Well can’t get any more empty.
Two more sources dug up and springs of water not apenty.
Starting to think that this drought has been going on for far too long.
It’s my fault mostly, for building in a barren heart.
Where I have to keep on digging in hopeless lots.
Or maybe its because of the roof I build above my head,
That blocks the rain, the sun and keeps me safe.
Safe indeed but safe is not an actual comfort to my soul,
Down here, trapped in my little hole of brick
with me, eyes turned high and only mud on my feet
Perhaps its time to get off these bruised soles…
