From A Meager Mold

Those that mold the clay must make certain their hearts are steady

For a father without solace provides only with their hands


Isolation, ambivalence, withdrawal, worry, the household norms taught and followed

Encouraged to fret, pride in wariness, revelry only for my passivity

Here's all the ways this could go wrong, all the things that you need get right

Tears spring tears, sadness spreads and multiplies, don't disturb the meager peace

Eyes wetted and begging, pleading not to go, can't make them fear for my safety

Drawn to the worst conclusions, I am made a miscreant, an inebriate, a threat

In urgent strife the guardian cowers, so an orphan, unfamiliar, must rise and steady

Futile admissions and tense confrontations, there's not much left to say


Am I the burden? Am I the source of such distress? Am I such a heavy load to bear?

It's plain to see, things would be easier for everyone...

If I had just never been broke from that mold



You say that I was crafted with your love, 

but for some reason, I can't quite say,

your words bring to me no comfort.