What Is It?

 

What is it about me
that says: “I don’t mind…
if you stand on me
to reach the line,
if you burden me
to your heart’s delight,
if you use my bones,
your gears to grind.
If your jokes and pranks
you desire to try,
just release them on me,
for I do not cry.
I have no human feelings,
I am not like you,
For I am not thin, nor perfect,
so, of course, it’s okay for you to do.
And, who knows?
Perhaps your little charade
will motivate me to make a change?
If I really try, perhaps someday…
I too can make a thoughtless
shallow play?
Or maybe,
if I stand real still,
you may forget I’m here,
or that you ever cared?”
Don’t try to act
like you still could,
that’s just as absurd
as thinking your love
was once pure.
How obscure.

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