I hate myself sometimes, I am my biggest rival.
I pick apart every conscious thought and it’s mind-boggling,
But yet I keep writing,
I can’t keep from rymhing.
It’s one beat that I can keep.
Rhythm and blues is my soul beneath.
I sing aloud -aloud..real loud again these days; I sat down and I let go..breathed in and went with Him.
I sing loud, and I sing low.
I am my biggest nemesis, I have come to see.
But yet I also love this me so tenderly, and have come to see the pain beneath.
I sometimes have learned to sing her lullabies and rock her gently to sleep.
She loves to hear the poetry and it touches her so, that she finds relief.
She blames herself for almost any and everything: but likewise is the biggest critic of humanity..
Ol’rottin hypocrisy she mumbles to herself..repeat repeat.
She longs for peace.
I’ve found her to be a loving soul, it just seems to me that she’s been fighting herself for so long…
Aiming for perfection encouraged by holier men.
But all she could do was fall, again and again.
Yet only according to many men’s standards that is…
I don’t speak with melancholy,
This is a happy ballad.
I am my biggest threat, my only challenge.
I doubt, I question, I fret I jest with.
All life’s lessons.
I want to love better and live wiser,
Be more patient, more kinder.
But fuck, I’m so so tired of trying…