The well with bitter-sweet waters is
far from near.
The path is murky but the wayside is murkier
still,
Slippery with flattery all along .
All who go down the path are bare
The foot of whom swell
All who crave are unwell.
Turn me around
Take me back
I no longer want to walk in it,
I no longer wish to drink from that well.
In the beginning it's a gasp.
But in the end it's a wasp.
©phyllrype
P