Poetry: Sawdust

Nothing satisfies,
Not milk, not honey.
None.

Sawdust, all of it.
I didn’t ask for this.

Except I did.

But I didn’t know it would be like this.

No going back now.
I must pay the price.

Others try to stop it,
But they see the honey,
Not the sawdust.
The disconnect, the gap,
It’s too much.

They can’t turn the water into wine.

I can’t turn the water into wine.
I can’t turn the water clean.

It’s all just sawdust.

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