You address yourself as a load of bullshit.
unaware of your significance.
I struggle to pick the remaining scattered fragments of your ego from the trash bin.
I say, as I force feed you words of praise and excellence.
You refuse to devour the feast of love I have laid out before your eyes.
ungrateful you are.
I play the sculptor’s role of putting the pieces together.
Struggling to glue your self-worth back into place.
You are weaker than before,
Drowned you are, in a pool of your sorrow;
your sodium water.
Parched and starved.
What have you left,
~ photography courtesy of Ilse Moore