Broken Things

Broken Things


I gather up my self-respect
It is a heavy stone held high over my head
The road is full of venomous snakes
How they hiss at me like many broken things
Would it not be mercy?
To bring my burden down?
In my place, would they not do the same?

Some people - I don't know how I've not given in
But I maintain that with no rock there is no real compassion

You tell me I'm too dismissive
That I'm too quick to turn my back on ferrel dogs
But it is so damn hard, having been bitten
To hear their barking as an earnest cry for help
But alone, unloved
What more could they be
In the outlands of self-fulfilled prophecy?

I know, I know, I know, I know but...

Some people - I don't know how I've not given in
But I watch you give and give only to be so taken

I gather up my self-respect
It is heavy stone, held high over my head
You say I'll never be until I let things go
If you could see the iceberg that I am below!
You talk of martyrdom
With so much flotsam
How can you ever forgive that which you've forgotten?

Some people - I don't know how I've not given in
But I maintain that with no rock there is no real compassion

So I carry on
I carry on
And I hold that stone up high
Trembling
Trembling
As is my love


November 8, 2018