Burden on the System

By Martin

Although I try to confront my chronic woes

and tell my therapist I’ll accept my pain,

my palms are raised and there’s nothing to show.

 

While enacting her advice will not kill me, I know

with no future to lose, there is too much to gain.

It’s time to set my arrow against my bow.

 

Other patients have come and gone, their flow

reflecting my pressure on a system already strained.

My palms are raised and there’s nothing to show.

 

Each week, she helps me learn how to outgrow

my past, but I’m guilted by the full quiver that remains.

It’s time to set my arrow against my bow.

 

Shadows dance around my feet wherever I go,

but I haven’t yet acted on the darkness in my veins.

My palms are raised and there’s nothing to show.

 

Although it takes a starving spirit to want to grow,

if I don’t try, my mother’s birth pangs were in vain.

My palms are raised and there’s nothing to show;

it’s time to set my arrow against my bow.

Lots of frivolous bunnies frolic on trampoline in the sun

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