I seem to fall through all the nets
Existence spans to keep me safe
And end up nursing vain regrets
And roam the streets like some poor waif.

If only I could play and win,
I tell myself to raise my mood.
But, being in the state I’m in,
I’m lucky if I find some food.

And yet, for all the trials I face,
That isn’t what I most bemoan;
My having fallen far from Grace
Means I’m as senseless as a stone.

Too bad that there’s no sure way back,
Once you have crawled into a crack.

Photo by Ales Dusa on Unsplash

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