There Are Days

There are days when I am not good.

When I shake and bellow.

When every lost second snatches

a bit of my mortified flesh.

When I push and prod bewildered children

with sleep-filled lashes.

 

There are days when I give up

before even starting.

Before even flaring the storm

I am keening, retreating.

Lower my standards to the cellar of obscurity.

Demand nothing.

Just seethe and resent…

and seethe some more.

In quiet

in despondent

in piteous

self-condolement.

 

There are days when my voice rankles,

my wit bites,

I slice and splice,

dissect and reject.

I push hard

against those I love,

those chains once chosen.

 

There are days when I am not good.

 

Not good enough.

 

2 thoughts on “There Are Days”

  1. Hi there, I found you on RC Gale’s blog where you shared this link. Glad you did. I really like this poem, as I can relate. Especially here:

    There are days when I give up

    before even starting.

    Oh, I hear ya. So true and those days I really should just lay in bed.

    1. Thanks for stopping by and for your comment. I’ve lately beeing trying to have a more positive slant on this: if I don’t get out of bed, how will I know what sort of day it’s going to be? And even when everything has gone wrong in the morning, sometimes a smile or a kind word or some sunshine in the afternoon can turn your day around…

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