Dig, dig, dig for something
Nothing in this soil worth keeping
Nothing in this ground worth finding
No one buried worth remembering
When it comes apart from me
Rotted roots, a fallen tree,
I’ve forgotten how to be
The god the people want to see.
It becomes a part of me
This rotten ground on which I sleep
Too late for roots to lift free
Into the trunk the poison seeps
Rotted shell of me
What is my identity
No more possibilities
Isolated entity.
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