I had considered recommendations
and seperated muscles and joints
but I lost my head at that critical point

where

You tried to break me
of bad habits and poor thoughts
but the sickness remains.

I remember when I thought
I could change the world
but now I've grown up
I've developed
a hunger and penchance
for realism: cynical and fresh

I'd cry if I had the strength
but you've taken it all away
you've sucked me dry
and I can't hold back the inevitable any longer
I'm no Atlas
the world upon my shoulders
is a grave mistake
one I'm sure we'd make
if we weren't so bruised and broken.

© J. Bernhard

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