And

If I told you it was killing me, would that make you stop?

Or would you just take a brief sabbatical,

until there was a reason to start again?

Here’s the thing…

I can take this.

And I can take that.

But what I can’t take.

What’s,

killing me.

Is how you have absolutely no idea,

No clue.

What I’m capable of.

You cut me off.

And interrupt.

But if you would let me speak.

If you would see me as another person.

I would say.

This is this side.

And that is that side.

And I see this.

And you see that.

And they see this.

And that’s why it’s confusing.

And this is what it is.

And you see no faith in me.

No faith in who I am.

And what I can do.

I wish you could see me.

Because I’ve dealt with this for a while.

And don’t know how to be anyone else when I’m here.

And that

That is why it’s killing me.

That is why I need an out.

Please tell me it’s ok to go away.

Again

and

again

and again.

Please tell me it’s ok.

It’s ok.

It’s ok.

I think I have a problem.

And I think it starts with you.

First poem I've written in a long time. Weird.

Don't forget I need a question for tomorrow kids. Happy thinking...