The Middle Finger Acceptance
by: Tyler Ross
I am temporary.
Easily forgotten.
A toy on and off the shelf.
Abandoned,
or
mislead.
The slow decline of health.
Mostly used.
More broken.
Can’t understand the unspoken.
The world still rotates on.
Little to no replies.
No one knows why I’m really dying inside.
Constantly feel like a bother.
Genuine or nice won’t suffice.
No one really seems to try.
Reciprocation absent, why?
No one really even says goodbye.
A reflection of many.
What a time to be alive,
as I feel my heart die,
I stick these middle fingers
deep into my eyes.
No more words,
drowning in the absurd.
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