Out of Order

That’s it,
Dwell on the lacking.
A need that wounds and an abyss of hopelessness.
Smirking when I hear the word courageous,
The degree of this admired trait leads me to stand still and measure them against my trials.
In times of silence, there is much reflection.
It overwhelms me,
Breaks me down, if only temporarily.
Temporarily out of service.
A pit stop to not being worked on, used, analyzed or reminded.
In order to function all must be fixed, screwed on and stocked up.
For the meantime,
It stands empty and listening out for the wheels of repair.

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About ingridfalconi

I'm a married mother of three and a published author.
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