Hidden

It pulls me to the corner
so black no star recalls
like a fetus curled tightly
so tiny and so small.

There to go unnoticed
by any passersby
no one to ask the questions
when and what and why


I lay as stiff as the dead
and breathe quietly even still
afraid to move, afraid to speak
the ground is cold and chill.

The magnet pulls ever tightly
down the ancient darkest wells
sometimes it feels like refuge
sometimes it feels like hell.

Perhaps the Universe will miss me
or pass by when he sees my blood
my sacrifice for living
that intermingles with the mud.

I am the dirt where the flowers grow
the manure that gives them feed
I fight the weeds to keep them away
from the lone and tiny seed.

Let the flower shine like glory
let its prizm-ed colors show
while I remain the humble earth
that only helps it grow.