God, can I write anything lovely anymore
The lark the thrush the yew the bush
Tone it down, lighten it up
Look in the mirror—throw up
My hands and say: I can’t take it anymore;
I’m not ok I’m not ok
See, then, I’ve made you worry… see
Me look through the window and say
I’m ok—
I’ll be fine
Knowing… not even
ever in my lifetime…
God didn’t put me here on earth
for anyone/anything else;
This is a lie.
God doesn’t exist.
And fine is ridiculous,
And completely irrelevant.
Elisabeth Horan
Elisabeth Horan is a poet mother student lover of kind people and animals, homesteading in Vermont with her tolerant partner and two young sons. She writes to survive and survives to write - We are all battling something. Let's support each other. Elisabeth enjoys riding horses and caring for her cats, chickens, goats and children (not necessarily in that order). She teaches at River Valley Community College in New Hampshire.
