By. Joyce S.

I am sick of the discombobulated orders that fly over my head.
I can't balance the weight, the words zoom by 100, 200, 300 miles per hour.
My heart is sore and weak; almost broken I was falsely led.

I am broken

You broke me, I hope you're happy.
Stand aside and judge as I try my best.
Watch, as you stand there, laughing and yapping.
“I'm so tired, please help me out” I cry
“No” you say as you add more to my pile.
Your words smack me
They pinch; they're vile
But soon you realize that it's just not enough.
They grab and throw me down on the ground.
Stomping, spitting, and acting all tough.

Am I broken?

I need a break from the breaking
I need to save myself before I drown.
Drown in a water ditch of my own making.
I lift myself up tired and shaking
I pant and wheeze, yet still, I walk
I ignore the insults and constant berating
I find my place
It's next to my people
I stare you down; right in the face
I turn around slowly, no longer caring   

I am not broken

This is a war that everyone faces.
A war against a stranger, a loved one, or themselves.
A war that consists of many fights and battle, sometimes in the most uninhabitable places.
Some wars last a few days while others tirelessly drag on for endless years.
Be careful what you say to others and yourself.
You never know who causes the tears.

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