It is not in idleness
That I justify my reproachfulness
That is where it is judged
Scathed upon
Laughed about
Debated
Still elating in my sorrowful bath
I reproach
Condensation lining the walls of my fragile heart
It feels like cold glass
Throbbing inside a marble cage
Every beat
In every way
Close to shattering it's tiny pieces upon the cold linoleum
That provides the floor
To my aching gut
It's in idleness
That I may remain...