Humpty Dumpty

The egg sculpture otuside Malaysia’s National Art Gallery


I have realised that I am an egg.

 

I’m perched precariously on the thin edge of a wall and am barely balanced enough to stop myself from going “Splat.”

I see only hard ground on one side of the wall.

And there is a warm hand in between the ground and I on the other side.

However, should I choose to trust this safety net and fall into it’s embrace, I face two outcomes:

1. I am saved.

2. Just moments after it is too late to hold myself steady, and I steadily plunge downwards, the hand  is taken away. I think I should feel doubly worse and hurt compared to if I did a Humpty Dumpty on the other side of the wall. In short, hurt, betrayal, revenge… “SPLAT.”

But you see, I HAVE to do something. I just simply CANNOT stay up on that wall forever, safe but not knowing.

I’m not that patient…

 

The wind blows,

So hard, so cold.

It’s numbness prepares me,

The hammer bellows, “Once. Twice. Sold”

The crowd turns to me, expectantly,

But I have nothing left to show,

No dramatic saves, no final whispered words,

I roll off the edge, eyes closed, and wait for the blow.

 

Go away.

Leave me alone.

I’m not worth egg on your hands.

I won’t scream…

I promise.

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