“My life is a perfect graveyard of buried hopes.” ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery in Anne of Green Gables ___________________________________________
My sinews reach deep into loam.
Life, that fragile pulse, surges slowly.
Is this what I will become?
A scraggle of weed, a fungus sipping slime?
Perfect, predicted. I shall praise providence with my mud-slicked limbs.
Graveyard emanations - the ghastly ghostly effluence
Of sunken souls will seep into my follicles.
Buried in my corpuscles, it will sprout
Hopes that unfurl and uncurl into bloom.
Prompt: Write an acrostic poem but instead of spelling a word have the first word of each line read out a poem.
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