poems about brokenness

Go Back

How can I go back when it
Felt so horrible spending time with
Someone who never thought of
Anyone else?
Oppressively difficult.
A narcissist’s overwhelming
Love for only himself.

Compassion not part of the conversation.
Miserly kindness doled out in
Anticipation of what he’ll get back.
Prickly nerves ready to
Fire off in a defensive storm.
A specter that obscures others.

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Mess

It’s always the
Same story:
Something happens
And the parents
Stand by muttering
That they never
Saw it coming,
At once absolving
Themselves of any
Responsibility and
Avoiding having to
Admit they were
Part of the mess.

The Questions

He doesn’t feel good
About himself, hasn’t
Come to grips with
Some, if not all, of
The questions that
Keep him from sleeping.
He attaches himself
To promised comfort,
Quells his doubts
By pressuring others
To do the same,
Stumbling together in
Willful ignorance,
Unopened eyes,
Closed hearts.

Barely

Tension-filled gait,
Taught face,
Clutching phone,
Walking determinedly
Toward unseen goal.
One look away from
Umbrage.
One comment away from
Explosion.
One step away from
Meltdown.
Keep it together,
Barely.

Averting

At the supermarket,
Averting her eyes,
Many recognize
What’s going on,
She wishes they didn’t.
Struggling through the day,
Not yet in a place
Where she believes
In her worth,
That she doesn’t
Deserve this.

Plume

Lashing out with great
Vigor and ferocity, memories
Kept covered by a thin
Layer of civility exposed at
The slightest scratch.
Unconscious reactions to
Perceived slights from all
Directions, the outrage of
Memories not forgotten,
Awakened, unaddressed,
Unknown, a plume of
Panic and bewilderment.

Deep Convictions

He’s a crusader
With deep convictions,
A man of integrity
Who can always
Be counted on to
Share some wise advice.
He prides himself
On being a person of
Honor and moderation,
Steadfast purveyor of
Only common-sense views,
Which is why he
Is fervently against
Income redistribution,
At least the kind
That helps the poor.

The Effect

The whole situation
Was created by people
Who aren’t aware of
Why they think or do
Certain things and
What the effect of
Their thoughts and
Actions is.

What it must be like
To travel through life
Swinging an ax,
Unwilling, unable,
To stop when
Someone, anyone,
Everyone, is
In the way.

Self-Adulation

It’s clear that
All that is happening
In that predatory mind
Is a miserable plan
To curry favor,
Establish dominance.

The need to be loved,
While overlooking the
Unpleasant flaws of
Reality, paramount,
Only self-adulation
Featured on the menu.

Manipulating the limbs
Of cold mannequins,
Unfeeling eyes staring
Blankly, no connection
To actuality, only
Temporary gratification.