The first circle was filled with so many other shapes A sea of angles, colors Mostly shades of lusterless grey Unwittingly staring across barren plains Fruitless trees Settled dirt caked into their eyes A fleeting hope, a single blade of grass I've settled for less To idly pine for contentment A welcome starvation "Lost are we, and are only so far punished, That without hope we live on in desire" I would love to be consumed by soft white noise Satisfied with endless longing Empty arms without belonging "Dust will not baptize your tortured soul" I am the drought