I chatter at it and

Batter at it and

still it is not fixed.

The ages old self-diatribe

I am not enough, I am not enough

I tell everyone, I’m OK, I’m fine

But in my mind there’s a line

And I’m on the wrong side.

The impossibility of moving on

Tethered to a ghost.

I trust no one, even myself

And so I remain lost

I crave the ease

The easy squeeze

that will fill my future full

Of gratitude and tenderness

of purposed hours filled.

I write at night

with all my sight

that I might

win this fight.

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1 Comment

  1. I’ve been engaging in some troublesome thoughts myself. Today, let’s take good care of ourselves — healthy food, some exercise, healthy thoughts. Love your poem.

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