Why do you push it up the hill
The boulder of your sin?
It only rolls right back again
And again you must begin.
Your hands must be all callouses
Your shoulders bent and raw.
You have eternity to figure it out
So why even start at all?
Why do you reach for sustenance
When the branch runs away
And the water recedes eternally
Like a fated flighty doxy?
Hasn’t the acid eaten
Through your stomach by now?
Aren’t you just stuck eating
What in life you did sow.
The Proud Dandelion 