Cut off
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Why can’t I show up for my life? Why am I so triggered? By the world, by events No confidence to put myself out there Things I love and adore Want, desperately, to do There’s no element of pushing through the first time No keys, but driven You’ll see my insides How they’re a ‘bad’ copy of everybody - and you Standby, survivor, forever Empty. Is that how you wanted me? Eject from the deck. Fly to where you needed me to be. Not trusted. Nicely, magically, empty when that’s far from true.. Hands built of creativity that feels like deceit I’ll be there I keep running off the spool.. Electricity shocks, what could-be, woven untangles I have a lifetime of possibility, only I’m a bee keeper Trying to wrangle More ashamed than I’ve ever been of anything else The wool, that frizzes and I stomp on Balling up with wool balls That are gasps flying from my mouth I can’t untangle Where are the basics? Why can’t I see, and forgive, roots laying on my bed That I can never get out
