These shortcomings are mine
To bury and burn as I will
No matter that they will
Dig themselves out
Of these graves I have furnished
And gather up ashes into
Something new (or old, in this case).
These damned flaws are mine
I admit it, though it cost
Me anything I have
There aren�t choices left
Because my facade fell off
While I slept
And everyone nods and snickers
Behind my back
And in front of my face
Because my bad things
Are visible
And theirs aren�t
These stupid regrets
Those are mine as well
I accept them, but it seems
Too much to ask of everyone else.
So, I walk with my head up
And take the jeers full on
I don�t know any other way to do it
Though bowing my head might make a shield
I want to keep the remnants of pride
That I convinced myself I have
(Though that could be a dream as well).
Tomatoes and cabbages roll off my back
I�m well used to it by now.
Eggs leak through my shell sometimes
But then it hardens and assimilates as part of it
Tears gather in the corners at intervals
But I�ve learned to drink them back
Before they see what they�ve done.
They�ll take anything I let out
And as I need every bit I can scavenge
I have learned to grasp and grip
And tear away snatch back.
These scars are mine
But they are long since white
Sand marks up my arms and legs
Where teeth and claws of others
Sundry
And even myself
Have made their mark in stone.
6/4/03
4:51 AM