Believe me

Believe me

I do not have anything.
my knife is blunt
my hands weak

my legs tired

my feet sore

and I live in a fatigued world of
aches and sorrow
The sun rises on my back
when I rush through the crowds

I have no time to look up

whether it is light or dark

sun or rain

wind or storm

things have stopped mean to me

believe me

I don’t have anything

the stick I wield

in my hands

is weak and trembles

under the weight of my body

I carry it to test the ground

hard or soft

as my feet have become numb

believe me

I don’t have anything

my work

hardly gives me enough to buy

to empower my hand

to reach my mouth

believe me

You should not be frightened

not afraid of me

I wonder

Believe me

When I look at your guns

and canons

the army and armaments

dogs and goons

you carry always

believe me

I learn

how dangerous I am

how deadly

how stout and stronger

I am

believe me
my muscles begin to shake.