My presence isn't present, for I'm not there but I'm here, my cognition is almost gone do to worry and fear, it's ike a window that's been bombarded by several stones, my foggy windows to the soul, they show so much if you know and so less when you don't, but it's so lamentable that my house has such a disturbance because the inside is still divine, we all close the blinds and shut the curtains to hide from what is, I want to keep mine open so bad, but the problem with that is sometimes when people see the interior they might try to rob it, of different strengths, my agreeableness allows for this, my apologies are my security system, my submisssion keeps me safe, there are so many pieces to my puzzle, but the pieces lost will not stifle the final outcome, because with optimism and creativity this piece of art will still hold meaning, so no sale evil buyers, this home I shall simply renovate, it's not going to anyone, it's mine and mine alone, I'm caught in my feelings, but my individuality will always be known that's a purpose, malificent ideas leave me alone.
YOU ARE READING
Not For Sale
PoetryA poem about self-assurance, inner strength. Agreeableness taken advantage of but ability to believe in oneself, and keep on keeping on.
