NaPoWriMo, Day Thirteen, Poem Thirteen

Rally

 

Cry sheep

when wolf

 

already 

left larder.

 

Nothing

but bits 

 

no one

will want. 

Your peeps

fake their

belief in 

bedroom.

Moneyed 

miracles 

your dead

last drop.

When all 

else fails

why would

they try?