Change
We are all broken.
The little boys say their silly words, and they don't see the effect it has on the girls.
"She's ugly"
"She's fat"
Well her parents are wondering: why won't she eat? Why does she take her mothers makeup?
We are all broken.
Every one hides in different ways.
Boys act out because they are told they cannot cry.
Girls cry silently because they are told they cannot act out.
Our voices are hidden by stereotypes and outdated ideals of what we should and should not do.
We are all broken.
But we can be fixed.
We can change our minds and let boys cry and let girls fight.
We can love each other and fix each other and fix ourselves.
We can hold each others hands and pray for unity.
We can do so many things if we just loved and lived and believed.
We are all broken.
But we don't have to be.
AS ONE OF MANY FISH IN THE SEA
WE ARE ALL BROKEN
choke'n on what's fractured
captured just to be battered
tattered rough and scattered
shattered by faith torn asunder
gone under absent whimsical wonder
thunder-struck by a wayward blunder
plunder a plea to simply be...
WE ARE ALL BROKEN
spoken to like we're not smart
dart-tipped insult from-the-start
heart hammered and torn apart
tart minded to undeniably damaged
bandaged soul barbarically managed
famished hope utterly banished
vanished into the urge to flee..
WE ARE ALL BROKEN
smoken inside and burnt to the bone
shown no courtesy on the way home
thrown down for knowledge unknown
blown back by how the odds are stacked
cracked considerations no longer tracked
packed down deep with a heavy impact
contact as one of many fish in the sea...
|| another_proser ||
Human Condition
Dripping diluted passion,
souls vainly cling;
gripping futility fiercely.
Visions clouded in vanity,
envy fueled frenzy.
villains pall; deception.
Hate consumed hearts
spitting words; vile
lust infected flesh.
Parsimonious ambitions,
violently stained crimson.
Sinister death's sting.
Schemers tongue slips
deceit, dealt shrewdly.
Venomous serpentine lips.
Hopelessly unchangeable;
human condition realized,
"We are all broken."
Mrs. Humpty-Dumpty
She'd seen the ads for that special glue...
(You could put it on top of your hard hat—
Glue yourself to a beam.)
...late at night, while she'd sipped from a
secret bottle. (He didn't know she hid gin
Behind the bag of flour. Why was there flour?
She never baked.)
And she wondered, as she gazed at the shattered,
jagged shards of her once-perfect life
(Who would glue a hard hat to a beam?)
Whether there was enough fucking epoxy in that
squashed-flat tube (in the whole wide world)
to piece the shards back together.