Wasteland of heartache
Triumphs in the water
Of desperate despair,
Atrophy isle
in the strait of tears.
You can't face it, the emptiness.
Can't clear weeds
from that spit of land.
Can't pull roots from the deep soil
And not kill the delicate balance
of the can't wasteland.
The wasteland of aching hearts,
water surrounds
acrid and boiling,
desperation to despair,
In the strait of tears.
Author's Notes/Comments:
Atrophy #222 in the 365 Day Word Challenge.