Heavy. A press on your shivering spine,
A tug on the string of your head, a friend
Telling you to watch and plod and pretend
That you’re strong, a warrior, perfect design
Who knows just when to lay her heart on the line.
They’re fierce and strong and they oft condescend
When you bring up your measly world’s end.
Forget it. Forget it. You’re doing just fine.
Heavy. The weight pulls you down to the granite,
Think and fall as the night burns away.
But nothing they do and nothing they say
Makes you believe it’ll sort out itself,
Because how are you meant to save the planet
When you can’t even save yourself?
This is a poem about how confusing it feels to want to look after the world whilst simultaneously not wanting to exist in the world. It’s essentially an exploration of my guilty conscience.