Splintered As

a thirty year perfect storm of words

and circumstances

tumble weeds rioting

dust smoking

guns tingling

I’m going to be me

not so I can show them

not so that I can prove anything

not for attention

let him be the hero

for however long that lasts

I honestly don’t care

roaming another land

taking life’s stand

trees bow, pine needles pierce

the humble ground

he tries to reach upward for sky spaces

I’m sorry for trying too hard

for being too perfect, seemingly

actually, all along…

I was as splintered as the fire wood

but no matter what, you never would have understood