Poverty Pond, what a lonely drink of water.
Does your name tell a story?
Or, has the richness of a thrashed season…stole the glory.
Gaps in the gleam and the glare…illusions of seeming to care.
What would you know of fanfare?
Black as a demon from a stolen heart.
Ugliness sinking from your lost cause.
Where have the ripples revealed all the flaws?