Friday, February 29, 2008

to my pathetic little uplifted hopeful self

i want to say,
what the fuck you were you doing
hanging a hundred stories in
the air?
don't you know even optimism
can die,
by falling so hard
that when you hit the pavement
they need to scrape up
with a shovel
what is left of you?

your wishful, smiling face
cannot alter the dangers
of suicidal behavior.

little self, you make me sick & now
you are hiding in the ranks
of my amazons
begging them
to protect you
with their arrows & shields.

try this:
hope all you like.
but next time,
take your own weapons.
buy your own armor.

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