I wonder: Can the „I“ be fixed whilst being a „we“?
Or will you fix yourself, reducing myself to just me?
Will that, then, be forever so?
Will you take what‘s yours and left of you and go?
I will have neither options nor choices,
I‘ll be stripped of what I value and cherish.
What will be left? Echoes of distant voices
from a fairer past that once was but now did perish.
Most of all I‘ll hope for one thing, should it ever be this way:
That you could master to respect and love yourself; every coming day.
Why do I have to be?
Try me! - I always seem to cry.
Disappointment. Again. Again!
I dare you, I invite you!
Sadness. Tears. Again. Again!
And yet, still I stand.
Or, the very least, I get up. Again. Again!
But why am I indestructible?
I wish I could break - or worse: Shatter!
Surely, then MY feelings would matter?!
But all your blazes are but tealights for me.
I sigh. Again. Again!
Smite me - at worst I‘ll buckle;
but never break or shatter.
— The End —