Little pieces of me come tumbling down,
I am a shell, not a person.
I am incapable of thought, or reason.
Sometimes I am overwhelmed at the thought of forever.
Everyday is the same.
People busy themselves with their lattes and suitcases.
They drive, here and then there.
In a hurry,
to do it again and again and again.
I hear of evil, of those who want to destroy us.
People look to their saviors for reassurance that we will remain strong.
I do not feel strong.
I am weak. I am a little piece. A puff.
The tide will wash over my footprint. and that will be it.
Pieces of me scattered. Carry on. Carry on.
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