Stubborn by J.M. Marcotte

I’m sick of having hope
I’m worn thin from believing
For the world in proving these are child’s things
Has sliced my little throat
Grow up it says
As it slaps me
And hurls me to the ground
And with a couple timely kicks
Brands me with pain profound
So that I won’t forget
 
How could I?
 
And I do not
But I do go on
And when I find myself
Here on the ground
I place a check beside all the rest
Then stand to be brought down
For when I stand
The stars above
Are closer to my hand

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About J.M. Turcotte
Fantasy Author | Weaving Enchanted Tales of Magic, Ruin & Hope | Dreaming in Ink & Stardust | Fueled by Coffee