Breathe

"Stop what you're doing!
Your doing hurts me!"
And if I stop,
they call that mercy.
Such a good son,
the nicest guy.
But something feels
so off inside.

In my heart,
I find no malice.
Yet my actions,
described as callous.
I'm thoughtless, yes.
This much is true.
But I never wished harm
to come to you.

Will it remove the pain
if I change my walk?
And why should I inquire
with so much talk?
If it hurts to watch me
walk this way.
I should change immediately,
without delay!

Applause.
Hey, I'm the nicest guy!
But something feels
so off inside.
It's not their face
in the mirror I see.
So their clapping can't truly
comfort me.

Reflection.
And who's that standing there?
What manner of posture
does he wear?
One that's upright,
standing firm?
Or one consistent
as a worm?

The world's applauding,
but off inside.
How can I stand
to meet my eyes?
If I can't meet
the face I see,
then how can their clapping
comfort me?

Man in the mirror.
Hey, don't forget.
You're supposed to be
a vertebrate.
Know it's not easy.
Expect to fall.
But get up quickly,
and stand so tall.

Stop what you're doing.
Your doing irks me.
And if you stop,
can we call that mercy?
Kindness maybe,
a brief reprieve.
I get back up,
and learn to breathe.