Here we are,
back at that old crossroads.
Burning all our angels,
just a moment of close,
inner reflection,
rendition.
Take away now,
disappointments.
Succor and triage,
pain and trauma,
gone in an instant,
but in an instant
they return.
You can’t unbreak an egg.
You can’t undo your sin.
Everything is a mistake,
you might as well get used to it.
From where I stand
I can see you
wrapped in your funerary best.
You haven’t even started.
You’re trying to begin
at the end,
but that’s all that you know.
Taught with love
withheld
and fists
applied.
Dreams sold as truth
and then denied.
The loving hug,
becomes a choke,
your tears of shame
a running joke.
No trusting eyes,
no brilliant smile.
No wonder you’re here in denial,
trying to make
a life from this
is more that what
you are equipped.
So let me help you.
Lift you up;
if only for a second.
You’re alive.
You’ve survived,
and now it’s up to you
to find a new beginning.
Burning all your angels
at the crossroads
is just an old wives’ tale.
It doesn’t work,
but you do.
HG – 2019
😍🥰