December 18th, 2020

Can’t help but wonder again – how many more

Pounds of flesh do I have to give away for free

To meet the norm?

And there’s nothing normal about this –

Shattering at 6 AM on a Monday morning,

Closing in on the dark abyss.

The pressure gets heavier each afternoon

So I stay inside to pity myself,

To curse at the moon.

But it reflects my chants like sunrays –

And there’s no way it ever gets better

If I stay.

There’s no way this story has a good ending

If all I grow to know

Is silence and pretending.

When my lips are shut, they grow stronger

On the power I gathered myself –

Until I can’t go on much longer.

Can I even go on from here, can I move?

Their tentacles strangle me

But what do I have to prove?

So I swallow the bitterness and resign the “sorry”s.

I don’t need a tougher skin,

I need to extract myself from your stories.

You can tell your greedy mirror image

To bear one more storm.

My part in this narrative is finished,

Recall your swarm.