Wednesday 10/04/2006 01:52:00 AM

His humpty dumpty was still on the wall. I wanted something to matter, but it was no use.

I knew it would break. Wouldn't be put back together again.

The only thing do was wait.

For the inevitable.

Be ready with out brooms.

He wouldn't fall. Wouldn't crack until he was ready. As to who would clean it up. I don't know. But it wouldn't be me.

Too many humpty's with pieces I never saw. That snuck under my skin. Dragging out those wounds long after they should've kissed their last dandelion.

I couldn't sell it. Couldn't give it away.

So I let them take it.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2021. All Rights Reserved.