This year, I missed the Mayflies
While others caught the bug.
But I remember my small achievements with such mass, hunted by immediate loss.
The severed umbilical knot, justified genocide of unfulfillable want, piled loosely on my back.
A late noose taunting
However you capitalize
On our day.
Our children will walk briskly past our graves, thankfully, strangers of our potential and discarded remains.