Mollification
They say good things come to those who wait,
Well how long must I sit here?
Quite honestly, I had the patience of a saint,
But even saints have their limits.
You beat me down and battered my resolve into a fine paste.
I hope it sticks to your fists.
Call me when your done being a dick.
Call me when I’m done throwing a fit.
It is the same old thing, life repeats,
Until your just one more contact to delete.
One less voice in the fog.
One less choice on the quiz.
Like drowning alone in a bog,
My only comfort is this bevy of frogs.
Here from now I cling to this,
just stuffed animals and balled fists.
We’re breaking through my aftermath
Like random plots on a scatter graph.
Took bolt cutters to my chain-link fence.
Pushed straight through into happenstance.
I was the pitter-patter of light rain,
Not quite enough to wash away that shame.
Like throwing stones to break a cliff,
A lack of progress makes the point stick.
Just another bird in the parking lot.
I’m sick.
They say good things come to those who wait,
but to me, do good things even come at all?
Quite honestly, I had the patience of a saint,
But even saints can give in.
You beat me down and battered my heart into a fine paste.
I hope you can never wash it off.
