The fertile plains of my youth
    held such hope of
    bearing sproutings

            that would        touch
                    the firmament
            that would        bear
                    the sweetest of fruit
            that would pioneer
                a new blossoming,
                the unsmelt fragrance
                in this tired world.

Instead all that's been ejaculated forth from my Earth
        is the most

            gigantic

        question mark.
    

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Comment on this poem... - your honest comments may be the only things that keep me going!
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