Empty Bucket 

Today I don’t even feel like I 

Am even a drop in the bucket, 

no I…

am more of what’s left behind 

Some residue and reflection on a beat up YIELD sign

All of the hatred washes over us like some desert-dry heat 

Tiptoeing on baking tar, 

we cannot even smell the burning of our own feet 

We, the nameless generation of exhausted phoenixes who… 

can combust no more

We, who were once the formiddable waves tumbling onto life’s shore

Reduced to drops in a leaky bucket

Worn down to a lazy middle finger, and a “fuck it”

On planet made of mostly water, we’ve found our way to dehydration 

Separated ourselves with fences and nations

And all that’s left of me now is the faintest resignation,

Some signs on a park bench of evaporation.

❤ Leah Ruthe

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