Chatting: Hacking Into My Pride

my pride
had been
and has

a bad rock.

a vertical polished
vertical
high
long enough

wall.

sometimes
my pride
turns
to be
a fragile

artifact

which I have to carry with me
and make
sure
none of us
falls off and brakes
down.

sometimes
my pride
shows up
like

life,

a flowers
-a woman perfect flower
erotic,
moisturized
with heavy rain or soft dew, and burned with a calming heat,

and has all the elements of a beautiful life.

My endeavor
is to get
rid
of it

or to put it
into sleep

like a pet
or
indulge it and spoil it
with rewards and magics so
it can sleep like a frustrated child.

so I can take care of my own
stuff and see things crystal clear.

or
I just want my independence from this burden
of pride.

poem by Atef Ayadi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!