I feel about as firm as glass,
after it’s already shattered.
Like someone dropped me from a second-floor window
and didn’t bother to catch me.
Then all the onlookers – accomplices really –
feigned a sigh and said, “poor guy never had a chance.”
As if they actually cared.
But I don’t mind their apathy.
I’m sure I’d have done the same thing.
So in hindsight and retrospect
maybe I deserve a good floor or ten higher.
Maybe they deserve to come along for the fall.
That way we can all declare in flawed unison,
“Please don’t hurt us –
that’s something we can do ourselves.”