Rendered, not like butter
More like useless, without merit
Nor obligation to perform
Perhaps better known
As a non-critical, bystander
Perceived, an unimportant being
Small yet inhumane injustices
Treated as if your injury
Becomes your whole with
Plenty of sharp shards
Blows to an already broken
Ego from weight gained
Mental capacity lost
Friendships strained, ignored
Repetitively and status attained
Simply through injury, all likely
Unintentional and completely accidental
One wreck, one second yet
Remains, forever, unrelenting
Cold, harsh and harrowing
The road of life, is, as it continues
Narrowing down, even further
Diminishing, you, your options
Until you master the skill of
Invisibility
About the Creator
Vicki Herrod
Sometimes awesome, sometimes lame but always in love with success, passion and tenacity.
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Lopsided
Given my memory is a bit spotty in places, usually in the folds and recesses where the past trauma lives, it’s quite surprising I remember precisely where I sat at my hairdresser’s home that day. I’m a loyal person so getting my hair cut, colored, and highlighted by my drug addicted hairdresser, turned sometimes friend, perched in her kitchen while facing the messy counter seemed normal for me. Despite the blame placed on the challenges and needs of her drug addicted mother, the poor choices she made repetitively all spoke to the toxic pairing of mother and daughter as partners in the crime of obliterating each other daily with both vicious arguments and drugs. In the kitchen-based salon, where fights weren’t public and purple hazes and glazes were put on hair and the occupants with equanimity.
By Vicki Herrod5 years ago in Futurism
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