Soft Shelled


I broke in middle school and spent summer picking the pieces up again, I was Humpty-Dumpty minus all the King’s horses and all the King’s men.

I thought no one could put me together again.

When struck, I struck back, in a way I can never be proud of - I fought back.

How was I better than the rest?

…was I worse?

The more I broke their egg shell the more my insides soured.

I superglued myself back together with bitter words and stinging insults - adding to my injury.

The glue stated chipping away, leaving me exposed, a gapping hole in my egg shell armor.

I tried to stay atop my wall, I was slipping 

clawing the brinks, palms wet 

I screamed for it to STOPSTOPSTO- 

It cracked in half.

I stared at my feet, watching my rotten yoke stain the cement. I watched as it mixed with my spit an blood and I 


        only wanting to change the reflection in the puddle.

I left my husk where it stood crumbling. 

Walked out the gate and got on a plane.

Land of Sun

I made my self a new yoke, sweet as a dumpling

Crafted a translucent covering.

I don’t climb up walls so high above the people down below.

Now I feed the chickens and crack open their eggs, and savor the saccharine yoke.

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