I stopped,

Closed the door, turned off the tap,

Poured away any signs of resentment.

Yet the knocking continued,

 

Each day they are waiting

Knowing smile,

The kindly sort, they make you laugh,

 

Long before the crying ever begins

Alluring, excitement, an enticing chant

Beckons our inner strength

Put aside

 

Any consequential fear,

Those are the weak-minded

Traits of the shallow cropping.

Compassion has idols.

 

Would that the world be forgiven

For belief in resilience,

An altered state of unity.

 

Seems our lives are destined

Either to succeed or fall into desperate

Hollows of anxious burden.

There in the shadows they ready themselves.