#391 – “locked hands”

“locked hands”


I make stupid mistakes

that twist up

my esteem

crack my tiny boat

with paddles

already lost downstream

I fold up into nothing

toss myself

in the trash

drive my thinking

right into the black

till I crash

I want to sleep

curl up

look away from it all

hang my prayers

in the storm of debris

till they fall

I don’t trust them

don’t trust

that they go anywhere

they just scratch up my lips

and make heavy

the air

and leave me

to patch up

my shabby welfare

and yet

as I drag through the mud

and the dread

as I tear

at the anger

I struggle to shed

I still whisper

to someone

with locked hands and bowed head





About Blackbird

Poet, sculptor, jewelry maker, writer, spouse, parent, crazy person - not necessarily in that order.
This entry was posted in A.D.D., Anger, Belief, Depression, disappointment, Failure, Faith, God, Healing, Hope, Poetry, Prayer, Praying, Self Esteem, Self-Forgiveness, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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