a debt i could not pay

a rush of fools, in august, has contained the wise for now,

the way i thought that things were good had changed my view somehow.

but the well was ill, and ill-intentioned, teetering to fall,

and fall it did, crashing upon the martyr i had the gall

to make my sad self out to be, and though the old i knew,

the youth was there, my sins laid bare. 

my debt is long past due.