WHEN THE BEST IS GONE

I’d rather you look at me—
Because the way you see me,
You think I’m some type of second best.

I totally cannot fault you,
There’re days I can’t help me too.
When I stand in the mirror,
I’m tempted to go with the rest—
Maybe this cloth has a patch after all.

Where is my strength?
I feel like these vultures picked at it
Till I began believing in the vacuum
It created in my chest—
Now I’m left with this burden
Of pretending it doesn’t hurt.
Don’t even ask me when!

*****

“Biology is cruel,” once I read from a
Novel— Patricia Cornwell,
Then I heard in the lines of a song,
“I Don’t Like Me,” K. Michelle.
If a heart can feel this way about itself,
Oh, well…

That little boy I knew had more than
Just a couple of dreams—
Until you came and said it wasn’t good enough!
You should have left me where you found me
© Ike Parbey