Not Enough Glue

When broken beyond repair you meet despair

 

 

With glue gun in one hand

And pieces of me another

I sit Indian style

In the middle of nowhere

Listening for hope to return

It packed up a few days ago

The wind beats against my foundation

And As I walk within

I hear the settling of this old house

Staples and paper clips

Tape and thread

All over me

I am still leaking

 Can’t plug these holes

When continuously I am ripped

Into a hundred million pieces

 Just for believing

Obstructed by my own thinking

I sit Indian style

With glue gun in one hand

And pieces of me in another