Vulnerability

Like a lake scratched
By an overhanging tree
Vulnerability
That’s me.
All my life,
I’ve been
Suffering, this way.
Vulnerability;
Like a mirror,
broke,
Upon the street,
Beneath trampling feet.
I’m prone
to vulnerability
No, I’m not an immigrant,
Or an O.A.P.
No, I’m not a child,
But childlike maybe.
For all my life
I’ve felt this way,
With this wound
Slashed into my psyche.
All my life,
I’ve suffered dread
Like a blind man,
Or the near dead,
Who lie upon the bare earth,
To see,
To measure,
How close to death
They might be,
That’s me, surely,
I suffer from
vulnerability.

Author: blackbird212012

I am interested in multimedia work: songwriting, art, and creative writing. I have been involved also in theatre and music performances.

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