Quiet Hands

I asked myself for the hundredth time
What will I do ? What will I do ?
Should I ? Could I ? May I ?
I looked to you for a pat on the head
Each nod another nail in my scaffolding.
Each an apparent strengthening of a weak structure underneath.
I was under the illusion that you kept me up.

But meanwhile a quiet hand was busy inside
Putting cement in the cracks
Strengthening the original.
A soft whisper reminding me that once I stood alone.
No outside work necessary to hold my bones.

Little by little I dismantled your hold
The nails weren’t even fully in.
The wood you used was weak
The metal bars prone to leaks.

So when you fell, I didn’t fall
I had no need for an outer wall
The stone and rock that made me… me
Had been enough but I didn’t see
I looked to others for so much approval
Yet was strong enough after their removal
The walls I had were strong not frail
Without the input of your nails.
(C) Slumpless

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