count your blessings

the worst part is, they cant see you through the blood in their eyes

or the rose gold sun they worship blind

they’ve promised themselves a better life

and it’s sad that the path to comfort is so deeply stained

no matter how hard you scrub, it is now ingrained

you may be humanity’s last hope but there will be another

when you have saved your corner of the world

and left a ruinous divide despite the thread you unspooled behind.

now another hero will have to dismember your hand

you can only take, never shall you make

you are already a villain, there is nothing you can do

you can live like a saint but

you shall always spread pain and suffering whether you know

it is a maze you cannot navigate

because what you see in your own self sacrifice

what you see through your own window

will always be so slightly tinted, so delicately warped

that even when you look inside yourself to replace what is rotten, you will never notice

that you forgot to leave behind a needle.

but

then again maybe our path of wreckage isn’t always our undoing

maybe our effect on other people isnt always our fault

because it cant be foreseen

so maybe the advice that we need to count our blessings

means more that the slights against us

are like grains of salt in the ocean

there are just enough of them to spoil the water

that cool gentle water, the love between teary-eyed erosion

but with a filter and some heat and some condensation

we can have something to drink

it might not be much

but anything at all is

well

the closest thing we have to a blessing.