armor

it’s one big exhale
this thing called letting go
punishing ourselves believing
we reap what others sow
every damn time
it’s all so unrelenting
the blame, the guilt, the fear
all of it, unforgiving
until the moment comes
when the armor we wear starts falling apart
revealing tired and battered souls
and broken broken hearts
it’s going to take time
to trust ourselves again
learn to love and laugh and cry
and live beyond the pen

Back Of the Line

Is there something you’ve always wanted to do, but never got around to starting (an activity, a hobby, or anything else, really)? Tell us about it — and tell us about what’s keeping you from doing it.

There’s a girl with dark hair that stands at the back of the line
back again where she started, only this time, she’s run out of time
for she’s made many mistakes, way too many for her to count
all because she tried to do everything right,  even as the casualties mount
of the dreams that she’s given up, way too many to mention
of the dreams that she’s had to let go, just to avoid contention.

But were she to do it all over again, she’d move herself out of the line
out of the numbing queue, before she runs out of time
she’ll write the stories yearning to be free, even if no one will read them
she’ll do the things she really wants to do, even if she’ll be condemned
for this time, she’s got dreams that she knows will last her forever
this time, she’s got her whole life ahead of her –
a life to do over.

Daily Prompt