Put On The Standard Patch

Empty swallows and crooked jays/
The birds are hunting the bees;
Cracked lips hide a cracked tongue/
Neglect rots from the outside in;
The wishing well’s dried up/
Someone stole the water by the bucketful;
Shivering doesn’t keep the cold out anymore/
But the shaking’s become a pastime;
Cracked bones set the wrong way/
The doctor got it right anyway;
Worn soles can’t hold the weight/
Bandage it with pretty ribbons;
Tie the jacket tighter ‘round/
Arms positioned comfortingly;
Directing attention with an eyeless smile/
Getting tapped for a vein;
Find the smallest closet space/
Mothballs are standard free;
Look out non-existent windows/
Don’t watch too closely as the world goes by