the
rain comes down,
I
am inert;
helpless,
hopeless,
immobile;
stuffed like a
thanksgiving
turkey,
boiling
in juices not
of
my own,
fed
from dishes
better
left undeserved;
a fool for the taking;
you left me here
to
rot,
never
looking back
on
your way out
the
door,
you
took everything
there
was,
you
took more than
I
had to give;
you still do;
soon now it
will
pass,
soon
enough,
what
once was
will
be no more,
washed
away
by
flowing rivers
of
unrelenting rain,
all that was,
all
that never was,
all
that could have been,
all
that never will be;
your doorstep empty;
at last.
.
.
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