It’s all wrong, wrenching my stomach
keeping me awake, I want to snuggle
but the dogs snore grates me nerves
as my mind loops over and over
how wrong I have been, into my dreams
I can’t seem to get it together, my
belongings strewn across city blocks
and the car has no breaks to stop
and collect myself, before I know it
I am stopped before a buffet with lumpy
white mush they’re trying to pass as gravy
and all I can think about is how wrong
I have been, how will I make it right?
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rowe 