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Trust
Bound, hamstrung, in boiling silences.
We live our lives banale in parody.
We set our scenes and play our roles,
For unseen audiences
Of dire domestic punditry.
Can we face the lies and eat our fear,
Plumb bottomless wells of our despair,
Rewalk the roads that brought us here?
I think not.
Trust is a very fragile thing,
Ephemeral, bright and beautiful,
It soars aloft on butterfly wing.
But mine lies crumpled now
And dull,
Mishandled,
By the child in you.
My prologue, done,...your cue!
