ANTS I'D CRUSHED

I wanted to title this “Ants From Up There,” but I was afraid Black Country, New Road would send me a cease-and-desist letter.

blue, green, grey
colors i swore would hold me up
a new shade each week to be my atlas

i’d built my castle walls high
but left the turret unguarded
so fear could man it when it wanted
now beneath the magnifying glass
i feel like the ants i’d crushed without thought 

i should've known better 
that loss loosens everything 
i grip the ground, the gates
‘til my hands grow calloused
and i've no one to blame but myself
for how weak i've set myself to be

i’m only a whisper from the floor
the match you pull from your boot