I will not claim I live life well;
I spill my soul most wastefully.
Water drilled too deep--bored through;
refilled with tears, poured cyclically.
When iced, I die a hardened death,
a frieze of stone in bas-relief.
Room temperature leaves wish-washed stains,
a frieze of stone in bas-relief.
Room temperature leaves wish-washed stains,
wooden hearts absorb, reveal...
Boiled--bubbled--sterilization,
repressed, now venting, steam escapes.
Drought appears with growing thirst;
quenched when springs afar are drawn.
Filtered, fresh, my hope renews,
filled to the brim, with spillways placed.
Filtered, fresh, my hope renews,
filled to the brim, with spillways placed.
Take my filtered offerings--drink!
My soul-well springs and lives life new.
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