Well Enough to Sell

Someday you’ll surrender thoughts,
Of how you ought to have dropped
Every little thing
That crept in steady rings.
Or walls stacked in cake layers,
Trapped praising your fake players.
Wrapped plainly to break chairs.
An act you trained to rein blank stares.
Perhaps I only care,
Because I blame myself
For this ever ringing bell.
Trained to tease but not to sell.
For this rope leads down a well
Quite quite cured of quenching.
On a day too dry to mention.
And so I fell
With eyes turned upward,
As I strayed from a sky
I seemed sucked towards.