What happens when you try to break the backs
Of backs that are already familiar with and have adapted to the pain of being trampled on?
What happens when those backs have adapted to the pain of breaking and aching and
Making themselves as hard as stone and as flexible as water?
What happens to us?
Our backs become bridges.
Sometimes, they become gates, or tethers.
They leak.
They reek.
They break.
They mend.
They rust,
Never do they break.
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 6:56 AM UTC
What happens when you try to break the backs
Of backs that are already familiar with and have adapted to the pain of being trampled on?
What happens when those backs have adapted to the pain of breaking and aching and
Making themselves as hard as stone and as flexible as water?
What happens to us?
Our backs become bridges.
Sometimes, they become gates, or tethers.
They leak.
They reek.
They break.
They mend.
They rust,
Never do they break.
Written in September '20
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