Four corners I’ve found
Flat, hard, sharp, square
I dig in, grasping, despite the glare
Emptying
It would appear
It is for naught
And not my style
I let go, hoping, because the song
Singing
The world must be softer than this
Four corners I’ve found
Flat, hard, sharp, square
I dig in, grasping, despite the glare
Emptying
It would appear
It is for naught
And not my style
I let go, hoping, because the song
Singing
The world must be softer than this