Don’t pity me.
For reasons that you should have learnt, from empathy, from humans.
Am feeling it. Echoed, in mirrors, scattering across my whole system, looking for flaws, looking for just one reason for me not to pity myself.
Not finding any, just feeling my own heart sink, lower and lower, as you rain your compassion and care over me.
Or is it me, in here with me, trying to get through the steel, am wearing round the pain, surrounding, walling off, a broken child. That weeps, for herself. She hurts, and hurts so bad. She cannot hear me, from her place of gone but not forgotten. This me, is now, and that me, could be then.
Poor little me.
There I said it. Am sorry, so very sorry, I cannot fix you. Can’t even hold you in any real way, can’t sooth away your tears, can’t hold your hand, can’t whisper in your ear it will be ok.
Now we both weep.
W