thinking i know what you want when you come to me in need is the mistake i make when we undertake showing compassion
listen, actually hear and feel the words as they spell circumstances i’d rather not be a part of
my brother left and the cord still strikes
i don’t want to be held sometimes that happens at night, stop giving me food i can’t stand to bite i need to chew through the news and apply the blues to 50s kitchen hues and realize making one and one a two can put me closer to you. stop handing me your fidget toys, quit playing that dull white noise and please for the love of god, i don’t like yoga.
i told you about this morning, tuesday night and the closet at my sisters wedding so you’d know, you’d know i’d work harder to get out. i appreciate your concern and look away when you notice a burn, please
i need one thing. understand that when i’m late it’s not out of disrespect my brother is seven, sister eleven and cold shower parades with hand swiping braids, time just fades, all i want are those grades that can lift us to a place without raids.
so, thank you for hearing me.
if you could listen to one thing
the compassion you can show isn’t more attention, or stuff
it’s knowing i’m doing my best, and that shouldn’t be enough
push me, no one else does