Toast & Tolerance

There was a time I cared enough to question it,

when they said that things would get better.

Where is eventually’s address?

And are we there yet? Are we there yet?

Sitting tracing circles on the smoky windows of memory,

Pain says my only options are to resist or serve.

The dilemma exists and there’s going to be hell to pay;

Universal audacity is hard to come by;

True love tends to bugger off into the sunset and I am afraid to find

I might not be good mommy material;

Life is sometimes remembrances and regrets,

but mostly it is toast and tolerance.

So sometimes I succumb to my own pressure tactics,

When I pitched it too short and it was way off target,

Because I’m wondering if compassion is objective.

And I’m thinking superficial is sometimes an understatement.

If you could move me from my point of view,