You are
a sponge.
You absorb
things,
keep them
stored
inside.

Someone speaks
words
quiet words
sharp words
they cut
into you
and
pierce
your
soul.
But the speaker
says
you
don't
have
a soul.
Do you?

You are
a sponge.
You absorb
things,
keep them
stored
inside.

You believe
the speaker,
the voice
for all
things
true.
You are
soulless.

Speaker.
Sponge.
From one
trickles
the
poison
the other
drinks
and
believes
the pain
is
punishment
for a crime
never committed.
Only
the unfortunate
‘crime’
of
existence.

Lost
forsaken
none
to stand near
no one
to help
you.
You
swell,
absorbing
a river
of caustic
words
deeds
taunts
until
you
are full
swollen
bloated.

All around
hostility.
No one
cares.
Sneering
harsh
battle-cries
but
there
is no fight
in you.

Filled
with
vicious
words
deeds
taunts
memories
and yet
not vicious
yourself
you
cower,
hiding from
nothing
and yet
everything.

You are
a sponge.
You absorb
things,
keep them
stored
inside.

You can store
no more.
You can’t
take
this
anymore.
But you
don’t fight
because
you are
a sponge.
You are
soulless.
You are
not
a fighter.
No ferocity
no hatred
no anger
no emotion
except
a strange
distant
longing
for something
heard of
spoken of
seen
but never
experienced.
Friendship.
Loyalty.
Trust.
Kindness.
All that is
good
in this
hard
world.

You are
a sponge
with no more
room
to absorb
the poison.

You burst.

Liberation.

And we are
left
to clean up
the debris
of human
cruelty.

You are
a sponge.
You absorb
things,
keep them
stored
inside.