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The Great Fall (Mr. Dumpty) 


The man they call Dumpty sat up on his wall.
On one side, faith and the other, xylitol. 
Has the white house and rides front of the train
But sometimes the sun gets spite from the rain.
Starts a tear without rhyme, a tear without reason.
Minds eye shows the winter no matter the season.
Looking for something he didn't know he had lost, 
till he looked in the mirror and saw  eyes dimly glossed.

The man they call Dumpty ran away from his life.
He scoffed off his kids and looked blank past his wife.
The yoke he should bear was too heavy to take.
His hard thin white shell showed signs of a break.
The horses and men raging around in his mind 
are the ones giving orders and he follows behind.
He isn't feeling sad... He just isn't feeling.
Closing throat, short of breath, staring up at the ceiling.

The man they call Dumpty fell in a dark place.
Smiled pink lips painted on a pale split face.
The matter inside spilled out from the blow.
All color turned grey and the “yes” is a no.
He walks down the valley, alone with ol’ Jim
The gleam in his eye is now a Beam deep within.
From the outside he looks just like one of the pack
But the hull of his soul is the part with the crack.

The man they call Dumpty is happy ya know.
The smile on his face and his friends all say so.
The light he sees fleeting, can’t be that bad.
“Just get over it”, they say. “Just don't be sad.”
“He’s not drowning as he says. Surrounded by us.”
Words of console are like love without trust.   
The sound of his laugh sounds just like a cry,
At the base of the wall, face up to the sky.

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