In my younger and more vulnerable years —

I say that as if I am aged
As if my armor is perfect
But I’m not, and it’s not
And what I am, I confess
is scared.

Not cynical, not jaded
Just plain old afraid
With fingers clutching tattered remains
Of faith misplaced.

So when I say,
“When I was young and vulnerable”
What I actually mean
Is that once upon a time
I was brave.


This was written as a response to a prompt on Carry On Tuesday.


3 thoughts on “Disenchanted

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