if my knees gave way and I dropped and sat puffed-up and pouting in the dust sunday school best

all wrinkled and rumpled little lace socks slumped over and grayed tights frayed at the knee from the gravel if I smacked my hands down and heaved, I dont want to glass face cracked at the teartracked faults red running right out of poor porcelain cheeks dripping slick over bow lips and quivering chin to pool bitter and hot at the collar if I cracked all my fingers and snapped off the ends flung myself down and beat at the earth until mushroom clouds of dirt bloomed heavy in the sky and I tore out my hair kicked off my shoes and fell far behind if I sat down and stuck out my arms pleaded, with all my pretty pleases would you carry me?