portrait by me
Stuck.
That’s what they say.
They’re stuck in
The muck of yesterday,
And I am familiar
With the frozen moment.
It’s an exhausted exhale
Where the knees bend,
And we pretend we’ve
Got this, but really
We are head down
Wondering if the
Next step will be
The end of it.
It is movement
Created by the brain,
But the thoughts,
like freezing rain,
Make the mind refrain
From dancing.
Instead, it whispers
The ugliest words,
Echos of those who
Hurt the tenderness
In us.
We gasp for air in a
Closed up space,
Try to shatter walls,
Open like flowers,
And people in glass jars
Shouldn’t throw barbs,
Right?
Cuz they don’t
Know your fight,
How you will stand
And kick right through
The barriers;
How you’ll smile
With glitter eyes
Cuz your souls can’t die
No matter how much
They try to take it, and
The mirror shatters into
The remnants of a
Former disaster, while
You become
Roses and alabaster.
