What’s left of me
What’s left of me?
shreds of yesterday
mingled with a dash of tomorrow.
Now is empty, now is dead
it’s the silence that I dread.
Fallen leaves, earthy smells
Like a tree in the fall
I feel more naked, with every
passing minute.
What’s left of me is gaping
a hole big enough for a backdraft
to start gnarling with withered teeth
at those who don’t deserve it.
