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Wyatt Clegg

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

28 poems·Since January 2021
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A drop in the water

January 8, 2021

As the ferryman sleeps another lost soul is forgotten. 
 

Each ripple of the water is but a child, misbegotten.

 

Punished for their supposed insolence.

 

Rather then praised for their innocence.

 

The child knows not the wrong they have brought.

 

All this rapture, for the meaning was never caught.

 

The tears of the child mean little in the sea of works deemed as prestigious. 

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