Fatigue Poem by John Weber
Fatigue
Dragging my dorsal as I glide
sends my energy on a slide
beyond the scope of synergy
until there's not much left in me.
Yawns putter from my monster gape
when I'm smothered flat like a grape
stalled until my vintage accrues,
choking summons such vibrant hues.
The moon above demands my trust
before my flesh breaks down to dust
blowing into the atmosphere
to merge these auras without fear.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/6/2024 6:06:47 PM # 1.0.0.1119
