Scumbleverse

Eaten by curious wrongs,

Some of you are distinguished

At birth, even conception,

Although all of you will be

Eaten by ordinary

Wrongs eventually. So bright

And hard, light on the snow’s crust

At noon, melting from below,

You know what you have to know,

But who wants to know? The truth

Is not hard, it’s just brittle,

And brilliantly reflective,

And cold. We’re meant to bring you

A little warmth in that strange

Way shadows make light tender,

Bearable, not so harsh. Soft

Blue lets you reflect, yourself,

On what’s been eating you, what

You know you wish you didn’t,

How you need your shades to dim

The bare truth glaring at you.