Not to let the "next guy suffer"
Not to take it out on them
Don't misplace
But no one says "thank you" when they take
No one says "sorry" when they take
They just take and you carry them on your skin
The funk, the hurt,
you're expected to wrap it all up, tuck it away, and continue to give yourself
Piece. by. piece.
We're walking around here, beautiful stained glass
Giving ourselves to those who just want to possess
To break off a piece to take home and stare at for a while before throwing you away.
How is that every fair?--being an expectant giver, regardless of the pain?
I am angry.
But even my anger erupts in flowers
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