Insults and Injuries

I bemoan and decry
How
No one — absolutely no one

Whether in writing, or whether verbally
Neither by smoke-signal, ancient code, pony-express, street sign, Social, nor any other means of communication or Media

Except Shakespeare, himself

Provided instruction on the following:

Seeing the writing on the wall;

Surviving the sudden, unspoken goodbye;

Understanding in any way, shape, or form, heartbreak;

Avoiding the subsequent self-loathing;

Navigating the wrong kinds of depths, whilst working to resurface;

The exact location where one may file a writ of replevin to retrieve back their spirit — unshattered, whole, good as new — and perhaps their house key, as well; and,

Walking with confidence therewith.

Inspirational Credit:
“Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.”
-William Shakespeare

Hamstringed

Somewhere between rounding third

And sliding into home

I’m hamstringed

I stop

I fall

I decide

I’ll not be tagged

There in the middle-ground

Could I crawl back and recover?

Counting on my brother’s full count

His double

Sweet time

His home run hit

Sweet savior

Instead I stand again

A fool, for certain

A rocket gone awry, we’ll see

But to the delight of the crowd

I seek home