sick

not a bad man, but damaged

not smug, but sorry

not lazy, but helpless

abused by everyone you’ve ever loved

until the best you can offer are broken promises

knives in backs

empty teardrops into the perpetual drink at your fingertips

I’m armed with excuses for you

it’s in the job description

this job I never asked for

a lifetime of defending you and nursing my own wounds

(I can only apologise for your behaviour)

(Fuck my genetics, I’ll never be like you)

I could tear my voice box to shreds

screaming at you to stop

but you’re underwater and I’m at the surface

years of pain are stones in your pockets

Any day now

I’ll lose you.

– anonymous

Photo courtesy of Michael Fenton

Categories: Poetry

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