i kept my failing
promises that fell
through my patch work
roof. call a thatcher,
i think i've gone rouge.

too liberal for my own good.
trying to fix myself like i'm
a leaking tap, but i only
leak when i watch kid's
films with touching endings,
and i haven't got any papers
to tell me i am able to build
anything that should stand. so

i tried to fix everyone else.
that backfires every time
like an old car, so i know
in my most hidden and secret
cupboard that i will just stay
inside and knit myself back
together, with patch-work
thread and dulled buttons.

because what else can i do?
i can not fix the world or
anyone else, and for me
to try, would
be ultimately futile.

source