A Public Note

I should mention here, that all poems are subject to rampant revision. Should you see a poem here, that I have posted elsewhere, and you notice that they are completely different, consider what is here the final product.

Atrophy

she
was
like
a
floating
flower
on
a
river
of
asphalt;
beautiful
once.
there's
no
joy
in
her
life
now,
just
a
used needle
to
cure
her
lonely,
distorted
reality.
a
terrible
waste,
like
some
antique
left
to
rot
among
other
discarded
treasures.

©Gary Coker II, 2011