I get it! Trust me, I do,
when everything’s wrong
and there is nothing to do!
And even if there is
you have not a slightest clue
how to pick up yourself
from the sticky betrayal.
How soothe the burning
and yearning to destroy
if not them then something intimate,
and you cringe from the false cheer:
“You’ll get past it, mate!”
at that exact moment you discover hate
and will to spit curses
but there’s no energy to open your mouth
so the unspoken words drown you in anger
futility and slander…
Listen, I get it. Trust, me I do,
and how you will get past it
I have no clue.
But there’s a thing at the bottom, I swear
when doors are closed
your only window is way up in the skies
it takes a fall to pitch dark