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I’ve tried to walk a mile in your shoes,
but my feet bled,
and the backs broke,
and you shouted at me
as you walked a mile
barefoot to collect them back.
I’ve tried to play the games that you lose,
but the dice rolled my way,
and I cleared the table
leaving you with a
bad debt still to pay,
and nothing left to play for.
I’ve tried to heal the places you bruise,
but my touch hurt
and the medication made it worse,
and the flowers died,
so I left the room
as you called the nurse.
I’ve tried to make the choices you choose,
so I’ve smashed the mirrors
and pulled the blinds down,
and I’ve torn all of the lines out,
and there’s no more
words to write now.
- mark walton
