I am crashing down around my feet.
Falling, falling down to the earth
without a parachute and diving into
a pool of my own tears. The shame of
me is unbearable to see; as all the hard
words and long hours of thinking amounts
to nothing, as I am pen-full but powerless.
I am not breaking down, I am broken...
and in many pieces. I am not the broken
wine bottle that fell from your dinning table.
I am the wine spilt all over your magnificent marble floor.
wine bottle that fell from your dinning table.
I am the wine spilt all over your magnificent marble floor.
The mess that you need to mop up; to make
our house a home again; of course you could just
leave the stain as it is...and never mop the mess....
leaving it as that funny African-shaped stain
on your blue-veined white marble floors.
By Joe Pollitt
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