They are the only ones that calm me. I am the only one who calms them. Two tiny toads with pot bellies and big heads like mine. Two who do belong here but are here. Two conscious friends I can count on. From room to room they follow me, but I just play along and make them happy.
Their care is strong. They send firm vibes through the house. They move up and they glide down and they grab my feelings between their slimy paws and snatch them with ferocious claws and never calm down. This is how they cope.
Let one forget his reason for judgement, they’d both sag like dying flowers, each with their paws hand in hand. Hush, hush, hush they say when I sleep. They watch.
When I am too depressed and too weak to keep keeping. When I am a tiny man against so many toads, then it is I look at nothing. When there is nothing left to see at in this world. Two who grew desperate for attention. Two who listen and do not forget to listen. Two whose reason is to listen and care.