Rubble

At the foot of the cliff is rubble,
piled up like a truckload of trouble
that the cliff
in frustration shrugged off.

This image I take as lesson.

I  am not a rock,
but have suffered frost
that has chipped off
parts of my life.

My frost I doubled and tripled,
enlarging size
while in danger of falling on my face
by the simple accumulation
of lies.