Frogs

the well is cold,

the well is,

damp

I’m down here

with the frogs

but the frogs,

they don’t want me

the frogs croak,

complain

they are down here

where it’s cold,

where walls ooze,

slime sticks,

despair persists,

and time melts

no chances exist

with the frogs

no escape,

no nothing

I’m grabbing,

and grabbing

But my hands, they

Keep slipping-

My feet can’t find

footing

I feel I’m always

Missing

I want to be a fly,

Not a frog.

Feel the sun

Fill my body,

Feel the wind

Fill my flight

Maybe know,

It’s alright

But I’m down here

In the soot

Mud has covered

My eyes

I’m grabbing,

I’m grabbing

The frogs

They eat flies