Naive

Creepy crawly meat ants
Over sugary-wasted fields
Swarming, biting, knawing
The sting, the burn
Scratch and itch
They just won’t go away.

A scrape of the nail
On brown, caramel softness
Leaves the fields vulnerable
Though wasted and tired
Anticipation, resistance

Pot holes embedded
Hills grow
Sugary-wasted fields loses its sweetness
Bitterness builds
Meat ants remain
The fields remain naive.

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