Poem By Charlotte Ballard

A grasshopper-
On the white tile
One leg torn off,
Struggles forward-
Fluid traces his track.
He wants to Live
And doesn't seem to
Know that a leg
Gone means death
For this grasshopper.
No hope, yet,
He wills – it so.
The fluid trail grows
Longer, clearer
As the tiny body
Weakens –
And Stills.
I wish I were a

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