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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