My last poem sucked
You can't deny it
But that's the risk you take
When you approach a monumental task
A draining experience
An interruption of life lived
An escape from anxiety, depression, and ulcers
Like a sprinkler system
I spit out words in quickly changing patterns
Hoping that some hit the mark
And feed the seeds and roots and leaves
The souls of those who drink them in
But unavoidably
They'll soak cars and walkers
Preventing them from ever wanting to return
To take in the scenery
But maybe the garden will be enough to bring them back
Sometimes you have to get wet
To drink deep....
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