All the Days I Chose To Ignore
I am a dog: panting, suffocating, dying
Clawing at the door of the car
You trapped me in.
I am the next act of the play you’re watching;
You knew I was coming, but you chose to
Leave the venue before I came on stage.
I am all the days that you choose to ignore
I am the Sundays, the Mondays, the Tuesdays,
And the Wednesdays, but never the Thursdays or
The Fridays.
I am never the relief, never the sun, never the spring,
Never the hot tea on a cold day.
Instead, I am the dying dog trapped inside
your car, the worst part of the movie,
The disappointing end to the book you’re reading:
I am never what you look forward to.
I am the cat on its ninth life, the tortoise thrown
Into the bottom of the lake, the tiger with its
Teeth torn out.
I am nothing, nothing but trying
Trying to break the glass that covers your frame,
But instead of broken glass I am left only with broken hands,
Bleeding and broken from the picture,
The picture that I couldn’t be in.
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