I’m in another one
of those moods,
something is gone.
I’m trying now
to put someone in
the place of the missing.
I cry out for you
you’re deaf now
it’s hard to listen
when your back is turned.
No one blames you
for me and this mood
teetering on an edge.
I’m just as happy
having these words
being the handsome steward.
Oh will anyone
truly understand
the soft and delicate pieces
that are jabbed and stuck
deep inside me.
My mood
never compromised,
never asked if I’d mind
if it could stay
a couple more days
writing down the words
that help explain
the hurt and hurry
the child felt.
Down now,
on broken knees to palms
there are pieces of me
that only a few
will ever understand.
The difference now,
between my mood
and my reflection
the hurt in me comes out
in all these words.
So sit
with your favorite glass in hand
and watch as I
unfold myself.

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