What disgusts me about this hole
Is not its dirt, or its moisture
It is its superficiality
What enrages me is that I fell
And got wounded
In such a peripheral hole
Which the rainwater touches
The sun also touches
And any animal passing by does too
But nothing really fills it up
Because there is no space
Enough for anything meaningful
It is empty, and as it seems
It probably would
Content itself with any material
Any shape or color
That lousily tried to cover
Its pathetic hollow nature
After all
What maddens me
Is the deep disappointment
Over my own deluded eyes
Which for so long
Projected colors
Where there was nothing
Nothing but a shallow hole
