I’m willing to move my ribs to the side for you.
Pluck open my back and give you pieces of my spine so that you can stand up straighter.
Invite you to have the pick of the draw when choosing my shoulders.
I want you to be properly prepared as you carry the weight of the world. You’ve been doing it alone for so long and two heads are better than one.
Three shoulders are better than two.
I would give you my heart but I need it. Couldn’t give you pieces of me so unequivocally without it. But I’ll give you a kidney,
sliver of my liver,
part of my lungs,
I would give you my tongue if only I knew you would use it to just speak up.
Why don’t you ever just speak up?
Why don’t I just speak up?
There’s an old saying advising people to do unto others as you’d have them do to you.
But what if you’ve given others your Milky Way and half of your stars out of the goodness of your heart and they can barely part with a kind word?
What do I do when I’ve shown you that I’m willing to give you more than half of all of me and I realize that you can’t be bothered to do the same?
What if I changed.
Gave to the world an exact replica of whatever it is that the world has given to me?
I taught you how to treat me. Accepted your bullshit even though I was allergic to it. Even though I knew it for exactly what it was.
But things have got to change. I can not continue to dry out my oceans to fill your river beds when you wouldn’t offer me a cold drink if it required too much work. Consider this my formal notice that the old ways are done.
And when you start to notice don’t be surprised.
you already done been told.