Title:
Beauty – only failed attempts: a vibrancy we are not longed for. Only mislaid dates: a square peg-hole varnished and glossed but the wrong shape for us. We sit at the bottom of a pit, the sky visible through a shrinking punch-hole, our fists full. While we’re down here we may as well eat the dirt.
Author:
Bio:
What is the sum of 9 and 11:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.