Sycophantic sounds run rife in the wind,
asking me,
telling me,
dear, you must breathe.
Words of honour code another,
perpetuated by shield and armour.
The shiny glint of clash upon clash,
ashes to dust,
ashes to ash.
The death of friendship,
was that ever really it?
Temporarily blinded,
tirades seemed it.
Pin the tail on the donkey,
fire away with the dragon,
lighten the load by stripping away
all there was to behold again.
Quietness now,
solitude, gratitude, and self-kindness,
day by day telling myself
that I deserve to embrace this.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Max van den Oetelaar on Unsplash
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