Life may be round
But oftentimes, it is riddled with holes
Which are often fit into by our beloveds
The ones we share crumbs with.
That night when you were hit by a left-handed drunkard
Whose pockets you emptied
After escaping the slimy hands
That grabbed your body,
All you thought of was filling the riddled holes.
So you proceeded to their doors
In torn shirts and bloodied cheeks
And without words, life’s hole is filled
With whispers of worth and love;
Then you bounced away,
Full of the crumbs they fed you with.
When shall your cup of crumbs run over, dear one?
When shall your feet break this hard wheels in rolling your way?
You have no answer,
Not even the ones you share crumbs with.