Growning up I learnt quick who my friends were,
who I was. Me against the world, alls I had with me was my Pride. My Pride was
a huge, hulking mass. My Pride sure got me into a lot of trouble. Guy that size
makes you rub some people the wrong way. My Pride bought me a busted lip or
two.
That
Pride of yours is going to get you into strife.
I didn’t care, Pride made me happy.
That is, until I grew up.
I got a job.
I remember the first time someone made me swallow
my Pride. That’s crazy, I thought, I can’t swallow my Pride! It couldn’t be
done, my Pride was too big.
They stuffed my Pride down my throat.
Swallowing my Pride hurt. Tears stained my
cheeks.
Over the years, it happened again and again.
Sometimes you just have to swallow your Pride,
people laughed.
It took something out of us.
My Pride withered, shrinking before me.
Yet each time, my Pride was harder to swallow.
The less of Pride that remained, the more it hurt to swallow. What was left of
my Pride stuck in my throat.
Again?
Swallow.
Just this once..?
Swallow.
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