The noise is suffocating.
I can barely breathe.
My world's started crashing,
and I'm crumbling beneath.

I don't want to care
about the feelings I've hurt.
Don't want to mind
that I belong in the dirt.

Just want to hide from the world
the wreck I've become.
To stop swinging my daggers
and make everyone numb.

Disaster, there's a victory
I can always secure.
Broken heart, I can give you one,
of that I am sure.

Compromise,
apologize,
empathize
all part of the game.
Disappointment's moniker?
One hint: It's my name.

How can you defend the meager walls you've built,
when you're cornered
and working with fragile hands,
to protect a fragile heart,

when the pursuit of you has become too much to fight;
when you've run as long,
and as hard
as your quick, short breaths can take you?

You can't.

Your only option is to fall on your knees,
roll with the punches,
take the pain,
and beg for mercy when all's said and done,

And though there's a certain peace in
finally admitting defeat,

The scars will emerge, reminding you of your lapse in strength,
your pursuer's victory,
and the battle that will have forever left your fragile fortress
in utter ruins.

Beautiful faces
in the most unexpected places
remind me that there's more to life
than this.

Each and every one,
a story all their own.
A lifetime of hurt,
of joy,
of perfect imperfection.

All at once
the crowd screams their pain:
   neglect
   abuse
   failure
   loss
   empty homes and
   shattered hopes,
they scream in utter silence.

You are not alone,
their faces whisper.
Their quiet reassurance more musical
than the song playing
in my ears.

Slowing to a stop
we each grab our bags,
exit without a word,
and scatter to follow each of our paths.

Unspoken therapy
at nine in the morning,
Forcing an interesting sense of gratitude
towards a broken down car
and a broken down spirit.