human, after all

my soap box is destroyed

I don't have it in me to use metaphor and simile now

if you are looking for flowery words, I'm not you're writer 

today I only have it in me

to put one word in front of the other

and take my thoughts for a stroll

 

My left hand is restraining my right

from clawing through my "open book"

and my writing hand is restricting my imagination

so no stories today, children

just truth

 

the reality then, with no lace or bows

and no excuses to soften the blow

you fell off that mighty high horse years ago

but were too stupid to realize it

the acts you professed to "never"

you did

 

and the worst part

is that you just made up new words and connotations

for the same dirty deeds

righteous indignation suits you

'sept you call it "truth" and "circumstance"

 

stand up tall, little girl

cause the moral high ground you held dear

was brittle and broken stuff

now your in the ditch you dug

with the same souls you condemned to status quo

 

you aren't so shiny any more

a little dust collecting on your years

cracks in the paint

what now, try to run away and sell the old as new?

or stand in your faults and swallow that bitter pill

despite your best efforts, your human after all

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

looking forward to your feedback

Reviews

[Relic]

I like your reply below. I got a lot out of that. No, people, including us, aren't perfect. They make mistakes and sometimes they're big ones. The ditch is too deep even for themselves and it mars the relationship forever.

Nice rant.

[Jmsavestheday]

Thanks Relic. I haven't visited this site in a while. Rereading this poem landed me square in the middle of that realization of humanity again. Still uncomfortable but normalized a bit more. I think there are a few, let's call them "awakinings" that humans go through in the span of their life; realizing they aren't invincible, realizing that their parents/guardians/caretakers are human-flawed-fragile, realizing that the self they thought they were was make-believe, (hopefully) realizing that they love someone more than themselves and finally, accepting mortality. The best we can do is to acknowledge what goes on and hope to find some light in it.

[Serge Wlodarski]

It doesn't pay to be an idealist. Most of us would be happier if we lowered our expectations. Of course, I'm a cynic so you shouldn't take me too seriously.

[Jmsavestheday]

Someone very special to me said that the goal, in the end is not to hope or dream but to live and enjoy the moment. Expectations, wants, desires and prescriptions of who we "should" be tend to get in the way of who we are. And if we don't know who we are then we can't really appreciate everything we've gone through, everything good thing we've done. The people who love us for reasons we'll never understand. But the journey to that realization isn't comfortable at all, hence the poem. Thanks for your feed back. I really appreciate it.