It is hard to live in this world when you are born soft. Your skin is paper and your heart is faint. You get knocked down over and over and each time you can never retrace your old steps. You keep getting pushed down. There is no redemption. Only regression.
There is no place in this world for the soft.
Is there a place to buy thick skin and an elastic heart? Is there a place to hide within your shell and shield against the attacks of the world? Is there a way to rip out your heart and keep it hollow? I am too weak for the world and the tears are too strong for me.
There is no place in the world for the soft like me.
The tears are not worth me and I am not worth the tears, but there is a heart and there is skin like glass panes; how do you tame the weaklings like me?
Tell me, how can you make a place for the soft ones like me?
YOU ARE READING
watercolor thoughts [completed]
Poetrypoetry by a painter who now paints her art in words "we tread too loudly, too violently on our earth. we smear our dark, ugly night all over the canvas and call it art." #80 in poetry [12/22/16] | © 2016 lookforthatlight
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