A Dot on the Map
By Yanna

A dot on the map of a continent
How small the tap to true nourishment is
Philanderers sullied the torn intern
The door was open so they picked their turn
All unions failed and Investors yelled
There’s no return when propositions fail
Back to the drawing board; red eyes all sore
Mending the blue map the shrew novice tore
A tear drop fell then 2,3,4 or more
Then fear to let go that thought you adore
It nags as it wakes and when it sleeps too
Thought now lives without you: what will it do?
It irks at you lots: You think of it too
You want it to win: the dream to come true
You ride a good wave in your new-found pool
But that dot in your sea: in the deep blue
How’s it float in? Swim? It needs your strong limbs