The holy grail is so frail when I wail in fear
So I sail to no avail as I always fail to steer
My copious doubts fueling my continuous drought
As the teas flood the waters beyond our sight
My senses are lifted as the wishes become burdens
A sickness so troubling and removable only by surgeons
Dissected body parts like the food for potting soil
Resurrected with the plants emanating with the buds of toil
They rise from the ashes of my sins and are presented as herbs
Picked and savored as the spices of my tormented blurbs
So here I am
And here I was
Same time
Same place
Same expression
Same face
Left in the soil
Left to my disgrace
All original works by @mylittleblurbs
