“You haven’t earned the right to say her name!”
The words came out bitter, tasting like bile, but he let them come nonetheless. There was a time before where he would have bitten them back, to be swallowed and swished around his stomach for days and days on end. But not today.
Today he said them, and he made sure she heard how much he meant them.
I want to earn everything that I have I don’t want anything to be given to me. When someone gives you something, the feel they have stake/ownership in it/you. No, I earn it, you cant take it. Every jewel on my crown, you better believe I earned it.
Everyone told me that I had to earn their respect, so I fought for it. I fought, and I labored, and I clawed for it. I sweat, and I bled, and I cried for it. I humored them as much as I could while squandering away the last scraps of both my youth and my soul. And what did I get back? Premature gray hair and the same ol’ bullshit. So, no. Now you gotta earn MY respect.
One day when I was about ten years old, I went with my mother to the bank. My mother was very fit and always walked ahead of me. sort of dragging me along. At the steps of the bank, she would stop and talk to one or two people — or at least I assumed she always did this, even though I only went with her, as far as I can remember that one time.
The way she did this stupefied me, the ease she had, how she leaned back and put her hand to her hat.
An earnest reply.
You asked.
I answered.
Tap your fingers to the floor
Walk them up like spiders
Crawling and causing
Goosebumps
Flesh freshly risen
Knock three times on my door
To the hearth you’ll be escorted
Kneel down at the fire, sir
For you do ever look so tired
Rest, here, you earned, you did
Rest, here, close your lips and fasted your lids like tiny silver buttons
Two coins for the oarsmen will secure your passage
“You haven’t earned the right to say her name!”
The words came out bitter, tasting like bile, but he let them come nonetheless. There was a time before where he would have bitten them back, to be swallowed and swished around his stomach for days and days on end. But not today.
Today he said them, and he made sure she heard how much he meant them.
I want to earn everything that I have I don’t want anything to be given to me. When someone gives you something, the feel they have stake/ownership in it/you. No, I earn it, you cant take it. Every jewel on my crown, you better believe I earned it.
Everyone told me that I had to earn their respect, so I fought for it. I fought, and I labored, and I clawed for it. I sweat, and I bled, and I cried for it. I humored them as much as I could while squandering away the last scraps of both my youth and my soul. And what did I get back? Premature gray hair and the same ol’ bullshit. So, no. Now you gotta earn MY respect.
One day when I was about ten years old, I went with my mother to the bank. My mother was very fit and always walked ahead of me. sort of dragging me along. At the steps of the bank, she would stop and talk to one or two people — or at least I assumed she always did this, even though I only went with her, as far as I can remember that one time.
The way she did this stupefied me, the ease she had, how she leaned back and put her hand to her hat.
An earnest reply.
You asked.
I answered.
Tap your fingers to the floor
Walk them up like spiders
Crawling and causing
Goosebumps
Flesh freshly risen
Knock three times on my door
To the hearth you’ll be escorted
Kneel down at the fire, sir
For you do ever look so tired
Rest, here, you earned, you did
Rest, here, close your lips and fasted your lids like tiny silver buttons
Two coins for the oarsmen will secure your passage