
Yessed to death
Permissive patience
In the absence of ever having had a
Who
What
Where
When
Does the truth finally
Choke you woke
To the reality of being
Either doormats, mice or brutish men
Who force their broken hunger
On unconscious bodies
Just because I sat there
A perch
Parrot
Frozen pickerel
Paralyzed scream beneath the ice
As the hook drew blood
Under the red flag
And the chiseled hole in your story
Echoed under our feet
Countless jars of bitter juice
Are not equated with unconditional love
And yet the take, take, take
Was merely a reflex
To give, give, give
The illusion
That everything was fine
~
Oh, that’s a dark one…
I really love the visual image you’ve constructed for this one – it’s very eloquent. ♥
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Apparently I was in a dark place. The funny thing is, in real life I’m such a happy optimist 😁
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