I tried carrying it
I tried carrying the weight of the world of my shoulders
I was walking slow
feet deeper into eternal mud.
There were people all around me
throwing more things on the heap I was carrying on my shoulders
I met men who are completely empty
with a happy face
covering the deepest sadness I have ever seen.
I met women who would rather throw themselves into that sadness
for their pain of seeing inside themselves
was unbearable
selling their soul rather than looking at it and learning to heal,
to hug it.
I was kicked and pushed
yelled at, criticized, asked to run
when I was already out of breath.
I was never enough.
Was I wrong in trying to carry it all ?
Was I wrong in denying myself,
The need for love ?
Who was that "I" unheard and unseen
by sick men and women
crying inside me?
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