Habitual Absurdity Poem by gregory collins

I zero in on the stars,
and i hear your coming.

I even probally left Tulip bulbs in your freezer.
They would probally smile if i believed you could help me.

But i slashed myself and the world is still small.
Is it gold mines or a book which you would take?

Now my father is suffering too,
and it's good to be at the edge.

But where have you gone,
now that tomorrow is the child within us all.

Now that in its last breath,
an angel dines on the stars,

and you tidy up my soul,
which never had a chance to be.