Captive
Maybe I don't know much about life yet, but I can feel myself wrinkling. Maybe fortune hasn't always collected at my feet, but I find favor in broken things. They keep me up and give me purpose, and yet I remain unmoved. There I am, behind the shade, watching the traffic, watching the wave. Sometimes I pretend I’m happy, there are so many to fool. I take a step out and retract. Here I stay, to mold as they mold. I forget my own fingers; forget there’s a choice. I remember only the bearable, that way I always have a reason to hold. To stay; to be; to bury----I find favor in broken things; I think they find favor in me too.