Pretty confident every poetry writing high school kid coming up in Georgia has written at least one poem on a Waffle House napkin.

If I could see through my walls of lazy faith
I would agree that my thoughts are days away
I lay here flushed in this field of daisied clay
Waiting for my love to light the way
And pushing with my pen, I contemplate my sin
And aggravate my mind to be a saint and invite it in
For through the water I wade
Until the scene has decayed
I have not been cleansed
But lick my rust and peel away