You didn't know me in the days when I was unstoppable,
back in the days when frenetic energy propelled me
forward and forward and forward and
the weight of everyone else's anger hadn't yet
yoked me. I had enough momentum to keep pulling
for a while. My sorry bones have since been crushed.
An endless parade of people who insisted they
knew better has climbed on my back to reach
new heights. Without fanfare, I got used to sitting
on the floor. These days, you'll find me mourning at
the altar of my wasted youth, picking myself apart
again and again and again, wondering where I lost
the thread. These days, you'll find me flat on my back
in the dirt, reaching lamely for the sky, trying to
remember who I used to be.