Words are hard.
I know I'm not saying
Anything revolutionary.
For all of the human race
Speech poses a quandary:
Do I speak?

Words are hard.
You know the saying:
Like a stone, words hurt:
Shattered bones, shattered soul,
Shattered self worth.
Can I speak?

Words are hard.
They take more energy
than I have left to give.
Perhaps if I ignore the rest
I'll have a will to live.
Why should I speak?

Words are hard.

just look ‘round

I am like a fish out of water.
Yet it's too shameful to cry.
Struggling to breathe
Letting out as much as a sigh.

They know where they’re going
And brush past my shoulders.
Like a stream that never stops flowing
The water gets colder.

I will never see the end.
They're going places and they’re going far.
And I am who I am
But who I am is not who they are.

Am I a fish out of water
Or a failure to manipulate?
Am I going against the ordinary
before it is too late?

Is it the wrong way
If I choose to stay put?
Is it wrong to stay
If no one else could?

Maybe one day I'll push through them.

"Get back to work!"  the voice shouted out

"There is work, you ****, to be written about!"

"Ok!" I said, as I stared at his head

This story is over, this poem is dead.