Deep
My own pen is a mighty sword that stabs myself.
My own words are the words that pierce within.
And my own thoughts reach down so deep.
So deep that I am drowning in them.
It is the condition.
It is my conditioning.
I buy a drink, it spills, and you see.
It begins to rain and it rains on me.
I fly a kite and it gets stuck in a tree.
I run barefoot and get stung by a bee.
I study real hard but still get a D.
I say “hi” to a child and he turns to flee.
I’m overdue at the library, so I get a fee.
I fall down the stairs and I skin my knee.
I remind myself that it’s not about me.
It’s all good.
Life is hard.
But, I can see.
I am free.