Saga of a Pushover
Every morning is winter.
My sun sank in the snow storm.
But, hey, I still have my sweater
It’s warmer than it used to be.
But only until they tore in-
They tore into my world, requesting shelter
Shelter mine, too precious to give up
Oh, but what would the push over do when you push it over?
I halved my sweater for them,
Felt their warmth spread in me
Conquer me, please me, and trick me into security.
I wanted it
More and more of it
So I tore up my sweater into
Sixty-six sweet pieces
One for each, sometimes shared by more
Cold never stopped whipping
Me or her or him or them
Their screams echoed my insides
Finding exit through my open lips
I screamed and yelled
They fought and killed
But, why did they break my walls
And push me over my huge heart?
Why did I give up the sweater?
Now I am freezing
And they are dead.
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