An accumulation of all our little messes,
Every fight we shy away,
Even a tiny cut,
Bleeds in some small way.

Just keep whispering,
All together a scream,
A thousand silent swings,
Still fells the sturdiest tree.

Stuck staring helplessly,
Watching our world unraveling,
Paralyzed by the tragedy,
That we can't mend this breaking.

Little Messes

April 2, 2021