I was once a burden of your endeavors.

I was once a struggle for your inertia.

I was once an agony for your eardrum.

If I were sturdier, I would clench your membranes.

If I were self-assured, I would bring it on.

If I were secure, I would disregard.

But I weep. I drain. I bleed.

I hand you my sighs. All sewn within my cries.

So pick up the ashes of my ecstasy,

then run away with your courtesy.

I’ll pick up your lies,

as another us in me instantly dies.