Friday, March 20, 2009

Alphabet Soup

Alphabet soup by the bucketloads,
the ingredients for expression, but a jumble of an offering at this point.
Letters placed together make words. Words arranged correctly create thoughts.
I would give you all my thoughts, but at this point, they don't make sense.
Can you decipher?
Others' gifts look lovely - they've traced it in gold.
My gift feels like I dropped it in the mud; a streak of dirt across my cheek.
My ponytail falling out and my knuckles banged up.
Knock on your door. Because I know that I should come, at the very least.
Here it is. After all this time, this is all I can come up with.
My eyes beg, "Please tell me its okay."
Now I see, pride is on my shirt.
I never impressed you before. I don't impress you now.
You see through it all. You appreciate my widow's mite if I don't pretend to be rich and sophisticated.
Fall apart in front of you. This is your whole point. Not me. you.
I forget to see your swaddling clothes. Your crown of pain. Your scars. 
They are the important part. 
You are the important part of this whole equation.

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