Again, it slips
and my mind rejects
the notion of connection.
An idle mind
full of fleeting desires
that vanish and fade
as soon as they transpire.
Emptiness fills me,
as exhaustion looms;
a dying flower
that can no longer bloom.
But maybe if I decay
and fertilize the ground,
then I can stay
and they’ll still want me around.
But my will is brave,
and my courage unmatched;
I won’t wait to be saved
or for someone to unlatch
the shackles that trap
me to lull and complacency;
I don’t want a life defined by
the dullness of expectancy.
I’m not waiting for permission.
Life is intimidating,
but spiritual submission
isn’t an option.
No, I’m not like you,
and that’s why I’m disconnected.
I won’t be what you want,
and I’m not what you expected.
