I’m on the ground when I’m feeling like a stone
Cold, like an empty auditorium, breaking a leg
Staggering across the stage like a drunken ghost
Singing hoarsely and ashamed
Ashamed for not loving, for discerning
For a lack of endearment for my own heart
Strange, so ashamed, ashamed of strange
Like a mirror in a birdcage, next to a window
Like some boxed up crock-pot at a yard-sale
Like some sad, rainy statue
