I'd never understand why we choose

to make martyrs of ourselves

for people who won't even do

half the things we do for them,

why we still think of the mistakes

we did fifteen years before,

and never learn from the experience

like we're still dressed in the same clothes

why we pay so much attention

to what other people have to say:

what to do with our bodies

and which game we should play

nor why we break and crack

the foundations we were built upon

I cannot comprehend

why it's so enticing to dwell on

questions we cannot answer

things we cannot change

people we cannot have

and dreams we don't even chase.

If humans are destined

for self-preservation,

then how'd you explain

these self-destructive actions?

I wouldn't say I loved you.

I wouldn't't say say I didn't.

I wouldn't wish you in hell.

I wouldn't say you're heaven-sent.

I wouldn't admit to anything.

And if I had to, I'd lie;

I actually did a couple instances;

and then you ask why.

Yet here I am thanking you

for at least letting me see

everything that ever was

and everything that could ever be.

I wouldn't say I regret it.

I wouldn't say I'm wise.

You broke my heart

and I let you do it twice.

The uncertainty of not knowing where you stand

or where you fall behind,

of not being sure what can be done,

or what exactly bothers your mind,

unsure whether I'd still be here tomorrow

or will my ashes travel across the land?

Am I mindful of the things I do not know?

Am I as bad as they say I am?

I lull my thoughts to a quiet sleep.

The silence in my head is a fresh clean slate.

Honor the tons of promises I have to keep.

I am starting over, lying in wait.

How perfect can these new eyes be

to see myself in new light entirely.

Memories are cobwebs

in the corners of my mind.

Sometimes they come crashing through

but I push them back behind.

They seep through the cracks of window sills

and linger like the scent of rain,

randomly spinning and raging like a tornado

speeding as much as a runaway train.

I am perfectly happy

and it's okay for parts of me not to be ready yet.

I live in the glow of anticipation

and in the small goals I have set.

I am perfectly happy,

perhaps not as perfect as you want it to be.

But I am nourishing my roots

and waiting patiently.