What is it with seeing a thing,
a bad thing,
a thing that is bad or negative,
usually bad,
and believing it is a deep rooted
part of the self?
I am not the main character,
(very happy about this turn of
events because leading the charge
or being the protagonist of all
that out there would leave
me static in a panic,
frantic about the chaotic)
so why is it always the inside
searching,
the pointing of digits at my
internal face slash faculties?
The reality is a whole bag
of worry. Intentionally mean
or malicious? Goodness knows I
do not wish for this, nor ever.
Averse to conflict but fearful of
causing,
I cradle my lack of speed in
cushions of curiosity,
craving confidence,
caring words of assurance.
Though I shall not milk nor demand
for this mountain belongs to
me.