Hard To Not Wither When The Offer's Relaxed.

Here in the midst
Of chosen and given
I thought what I'd wished
Wouldn't miss me right here.
This rips the skin
From shoulder to nail
Like low-downs agreeing to plankwalk the men
Then crossbone the sail.
It is them I beseech
To tend to the tear.
When I reach out my hand,
No one is there.

Now that I'm aged,
More days 'neath the hat,
I understand the tower.
I wish to go in it,
But I cannot do it.
And you would ask why....

Hard to not wither when the offer's relaxed.
Ready to go. Told to turn back.
Jellyfish circle.
Eels there to poison.
Whirlpool, a wormhole--
My very last dream.

Not come to pass.
Here in the wasn't.
Appears that the tether
Still keeps the say.
This rips the skin
From shoulder to nail
Like low-downs agreeing to let down the men
And lift not the bale.
It is them I believe
Will clothe up the bare.

When I hold up my arms,
No one is there.

--Keddiz