"Strong" is a trap.
"Strong" is a lie.
"Strong" denies the cracks in the foundation.
Were I a house, I would be condemned,
Not told how the cracks don't show,
How the clumps of crumbling plaster are "normal" after what I've been through, or worse,
Don't really matter at all.
I am not strong,
Nor am I weak; I am
Hollowed out, decayed and infested with the blackest mould crawling up my walls.
I am imploding;
Sinking into unstable ground.
Demons have taken up residency inside my
Derelict walls.
I decay where I stand; that is,
When I'm able to stand at all.
Mostly I sit,
Still as old bricks,
And wait for the earth
To reclaim me.
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