do i indulge in my proclivity

for some sort of creativity

or is it just lividity

from a tad too much

liquidity

i sit in this humidity

languid with stupidity

this rhyme has gotten corny

although its roots are thorny

 

as i sit and plunder

every little blunder

i often sit and wonder

what dark cloud i was under

how does it feel, to belong

not just listening, but part of the song?

from old anger repented

far from lost, demented.

circles run ever growing wider

caught in the web

i am my own spider.

every day i live with the certainty that i cannot shake my insecurity

inside me lurking, peering about, that unloved girl trying to get out

she sits in my eyes how i see myself

trying to sabotage with her bitter stealth

mocked as a youth, seldom told the truth

almost never smiled turned to running wild

struggling as an adult to find my own ways

hoping to find peace one of these days

still hungry for acceptance tired of anything less

trying to wriggle out of that old  tattered dress

a writers block has landed on my head

i really should have stayed in bed

 

 

my circumstances in life have changed

inner life not rearranged

looking for a collaboration

between being loved and consternation