I have made this challenge a library,
over half a year of shifting
I have tried to tell a pretty tragedy
but somehow the pretty’s missing
Good intentions, I want to spread heart
Gray creeps up around my grin
This year’s library is how I keep
knives from slipping under my skin
Still grass grows around sinkholes,
showing just how we survive
We try to shine in our own spaces
pull magic out of staying alive
We have made this challenge a library,
a year of change and how we show it
We have tried to tell a pretty tragedy
and that’s what I call a poet
Sinkholes
So long as grass is growing around the sinkholes, as poets, we're okay. It is a library. :D