You throw the word around
Like sprinkles on your donut.
It slaps me in the face
And spits on my cheek.
So don’t you dare say,
I can do it anyway
For there are nights I cannot,
And days my body will not.
You say it like it’s the cure for all.
It punches me in the head.
It keeps me under my bed.
So don’t wave those hands of yours,
Like this is something anyone enjoys,
For strength is a paint that wears out,
Underneath is the weak who can’t even cry or shout.
You look happy.
You say it as a compliment.
And maybe it really is,
For all the pretentiousness.
For the lips smile,
And the voice may laugh,
But the eyes are dead,
You say it like as you puckered your lips.
And I’d raise my eyebrow at you.
Push it, and perhaps a finger too.
For you say it like it’s a person’s flaw.
A mark that says this person’s error.
But tell you what, the truth is what you never saw.
To be happy with what you see in the mirror.
You quote it like it’s an invented word.
Like a made up word for fancies of the mind.
You make me sick and my stomach grind.
For one to get over it,
For one to leave the bed,
Is like reaching a mountain’s summit.
And for you to say that,
It keeps all efforts dead.