Ashes

Someone, somewhere said something

about things getting better.

I’m still waiting for it.

Someday, I’m supposed to be stronger,

more fluid;

less fragile.

What then, when I split?

Old, dead trees

once strong and undefeated

(a mother fucking force to be reckoned with);

they shatter at the wind.

The lightning crumbles their cold, dead roots.

I used to be an oak,

and now… kindle for his fire.

Laughing wind, cackling as he lights his match

to watch me burn.

I’m no phoenix; I’m just the dust in the pit.

After all-

only fools love the broken.

#mb