by Lynne Lessard
Published on: Feb 27, 2008
Type: Poetry

-I gave up.

-What made you give up?

-I felt cursed,
and if you’re cursed,
you’re cursed.
There’s no getting rid of a curse,
except in movies.

-So you believe in curses,
But not cures?

-I was quite the pessimist.

-You were?
something has changed?

I get that it’s not a curse.
That was crazy.
I’m not cursed,
just ridiculously unlucky.

-Do you feel as though that’s your own fault?

-How could it be my own fault?
You know the concept.
We’re just pawns in a sick game of life.

-So then,
you’re willing pick up again?

-I don’t think I ever gave up.
I made some changes,
but I didn’t give up.

-You told me you did.

-I wanted to see your reaction.

-That’s sort of cruel.

-Aren’t you supposed to fix me?

-I am.



-Are you sure?

-I’m sure.
And you did give up.

-I’m a better actress than I thought.

-You gave up furiously,
and you keep on giving.
You pick out the few things going for you,
and you find a way to destroy them.
You choose to find a way to turn them around.
You feel as though you don’t deserve to have things go in your favour.
You’re not used to things coming to you,
you’re used to chasing them,
you’re used to running after them,
and you’re used to watching them explode if you ever get too close.

-And here I thought you’d be picking my brain.

-You choose to rely on somebody else to fix you.

I didn’t want to be here in the first place,
let alone now that I’m under attack.
I don’t choose to need somebody to fix me.

-Maybe not,
but you choose to be broken.

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