Monday, April 24, 2023

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Four, Poem Twenty-Four

 
Nothing
 
No recovery now,
never enough time
to lengthen legs.

Must have some 
emotion left, and
they'll find it. 

Home stretches 
far, far from home,
stringing out.

Addicted to all 
that attention, but
with indifference.

Every year, more 
will form to break
down, kill self. 

Hangers off wait
to slip in bylines
into eulogy. 

Make it around 
one more year to
muted applause.

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