| |
where is the weak crack,
where is the fragile inch?
Where will i find the solitude soul
amongst the brute and hardy folk?
if i were bald, would i care?
who would, and who should?
for it is the unforetold things that should be feared
and found and figured out.
i don't even know how terrible i could be.
but where is this crack?
where that fragile inch?
was it when i saw a sister beat up another sister,
or when my father spoke harshly to my mother?
was it when i wanted to give up all my birthday presents
when i did something bad?
was it when i heard a classmate had hung himself,
or was it when i didn't stand up for a humiliated friend?
truth can be told from the past,
but why does it hold us so tightly?
why does it make us all feel bald?
i suppose i would care if i were bald.
jolenish fiber
|
|
User Rating: |
|
--
/10
(0 votes) |
|
|
|
E-mail this poem to e friend