some days I feel, as if all the lessons
in life, I still haven't learned.
these days when I make errors
I punish myself for repeating it,
I seldom wish these days to come around.
the generational curse of forcing growth,
of cursing the bud yet to blossom,
the dissatisfaction, the act of coercing time;
I've mastered it all, I think.
and every time I'm met with discomfort
the words ringing in my ear,
are neither empowering,
nor do they provide warmth,
simply the remnants of guilt that
has been passed through the generations.
the ones that have no faith in time,
those who see life as a milestone,
and those who are hungry to reach,
I hate to bear these suffocating thoughts,
that crush the barely blooming spirit.
I hate to force open my senses,
when the previous damage
wasn't ever repaired, never healed.
how much more should i force my growth
to live around this wilting world?
YOU ARE READING
I'm fashionably late to loving myself
PoetryThe world would be dull if love, poetry, admiration, zeal, passion, and romance wouldn't lace each strand of our heavenly web. I spill my heart on this one love letter to the entire humanity. In a faint voice though, soft enough to hear only when yo...
