ZIGGY

I the fly in the soup

I cease within my decree

no longer can I see the 

person I had hoped to be. 

 

Denial thrown thrown back 

in the face off withering hope, 

that gropes with dead desire. 

 

Poleaxed by want, which quenched

the spark that was not my flame

blame was never my game. 

 

Was gone before I was there, tears

that swell would never be enough to

drown a lifetime of disappointment.

 

There is no ointment to feather my

scar, no healing words without reproach, 

the person I had hoped to be died within me.