I am tired of myself.
Taking up too much space in the grocery store on an afternoon bruised with stress.
Where is the priest with the bullet in his bathrobe on the lawn of
Not on the cereal aisle. Not in my car. Not on the ballot. Not without struggle.
I do not know myself.
Choices are made, milk is drunk, rent was due.
Who am I but a reflection of you? And you and you and you.
Trust the billboard that reminds us to pay attention.
I am trying to listen.
4 comments:
Great title
at least one person is trying to listen.
you've got something here worth hearing and listening to
beautiful and moving
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