the world is a playground,
life is an abused child
emulating the actions of its upbringing against me as it pushes me to the dirt beneath the monkey bars when it sees me struggling to keep a hold.
Circumstance watches wide eyed from the sandbox,
there’s nothing it can do.
Opportunity is too busy to notice, pumping its legs on the swing,
trying to get higher and higher.
Time is running itself ragged trying to keep up with something that may or may not even exist; itself.
And I’m just laying there beneath all the things I tried so desperately to keep within my grasp but couldn’t.
Taking the tight fists life keeps swinging too tired to fight back, too used to this routine to bother.
I know life will tire before I break.
Then, I’ll stand, dust the dirt away,
take a deep breath or ten,
push the frustration back into its hiding place,
and I’ll climb back up.
I’ll keep climbing back up…