Wellness

It was just a job,
Just some gainful employment,
But I fled to them for safety
They didn’t extend

And it broke me.

They held out the dream
Of a real life
They never intended to give
But as long as I held on,

It was all piñata sticks.

Now I live in the rubble
Of their cold hearts
And false words
Unable to stand again

On these broken legs.

The admission price
Was the same as his:
Take whatever I’m given
In fist and fury

In gratitude for the opportunity
To be beaten low
By such worthy fists.