irresponsible

you do not
understand
me.
you asked me to share
my insides
and spill the guts and bloody,
messy pulp of my soul
all over this space.
and tearfully
i explained how
in those pages
the massacre of the innocent
made me gasp for breath
and gave me nightmares.
your eyes stared
at me.
and then i went ahead
and told how
my body longs to donate itself,
each cell throbbing
for the chance
to create this
‘better world’
that we are all screeching for.
you called me
irresponsible.
inspiration
is not to be jeered and pointed at.
dreams
are not for your kicking.
i think it’s best
you leave this fragile place,
where hearts will not withstand
breaking.
again.

~r.j.m.