DumpTruck

 

Trying to fill a hole

 

Dig yourself deeper

And see the sunlight high above

Diffused through your foggy breath

The hill is getting steeper

And you worry how are you going to escape

Your homemade death bed

 

Clawing at the soil frantically

Your nails and hands are dirt filled

Though you desperately rub them clean on your torn jeans

 

Your mind is spinning

With visions

Of what to do

What could have been done

Should not have been done

What you wouldn’t have done

For your mind and your heart is a Ferris wheel

Detached from its hinges

 

You hear people muttering above you

But your throat is so parched

All you can do is mutter a whisper for help

Some know you are down there

Some don’t even care

They can’t do a thing

Their ropes do not reach

Their ladders are too short

And they wish not to throw your dirt down

It would seem rude

 

The hole

The dungeon

Is the brightest place you can be

You revel

On the cold stone floor

Not confused or disoriented

Though your knees are sore

You kneel

And kneel

 

A queen steps down from her pedestal

And feels a peasant

Holds a hand

And imagined her riches

 

What was her kingdom

And her royalty

 

The crown weighed on her head

Making it hang low

But dethroned

and lifted

she can see ahead