Reversal Of Roles Poem by Not Long Left

A car stipped of its engine is a man robbed
of his role. Late evening lingering of school

work but a wrenching memory now. From
unused limbs to grand grounded feet you

made your mark. Dependence dampens
ones pride, you walk the streets like a lost

child, clinging to invisible breasts you seek
a reversal. Just a pin prick on the world

just a gravestone lost in a field of weeds.
Somewhere in cyber space your words

wait for arrival. I make promises that clouds
will clear, but we both know an oracle I am not.