Soft Shelled
I broke in middle school and spent summer picking the pieces up again, I was Humpty-Dumpty minus all the King’s horses and all the King’s men.
I thought no one could put me together again.
When struck, I struck back, in a way I can never be proud of - I fought back.
How was I better than the rest?
…was I worse?
The more I broke their egg shell the more my insides soured.
I superglued myself back together with bitter words and stinging insults - adding to my injury.
The glue stated chipping away, leaving me exposed, a gapping hole in my egg shell armor.
I tried to stay atop my wall, I was slipping
clawing the brinks, palms wet
I screamed for it to STOPSTOPSTO-
It cracked in half.
I stared at my feet, watching my rotten yoke stain the cement. I watched as it mixed with my spit an blood and I
wept
only wanting to change the reflection in the puddle.
I left my husk where it stood crumbling.
Walked out the gate and got on a plane.
Land of Sun
I made my self a new yoke, sweet as a dumpling
Crafted a translucent covering.
I don’t climb up walls so high above the people down below.
Now I feed the chickens and crack open their eggs, and savor the saccharine yoke.