Drought

You know,
I don't like myself too much...
and every time I think
I wind up spinning webs.
I've found the past encircling
a shrouded figure bent
somewhere
across my peripheral,
but somehow
I'm still spent.
It'll slowly all bleed out-
that warm sap found within.
And, in the end, it worths not
whether it's slow,
or raining out.