There are cracks but I still hold on.
I try to assemble myself
With the words I scattered over the years;
Words that were chosen with care,
Polished and pruned
Lie orphaned in a corner,
Still resilient to the sound of the mayhem outside.
While the rest were playing in the rain,
I chose to build my monument with these words;
For long, it withstood the rain and the sun,
What chance does it stand against rock though?
I wonder as the cracks get wider,
Did I waste precious time?
The stones keep pelting,
I realise there’s nothing I can do
To stop the barrage;
You can’t stop the rain, I hear me telling myself,
You can’t stand here
Watching your masterpiece being shredded.
So I get up, wear my shoes,
And work on another monument,
Weaving it with newfound words.