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Fiona Interrupted

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This one isn't anything super complex, but I love it a lot. This poem is a message to myself; I'm telling myself to move on this the person/situation and leave it in the past. The parts about cinderella are saying even no matter how convinced you are that something is right for you in your life, it doesn't mean it is truly what you need. She said, ""you've always been mature for your age But you've never sounded more like a child" Part of me has become All of what I preach against" - so powerful to me. I'm telling myself I have gone back to my inner needy child and it is very unhealthy. And the last line is me telling myself that my own actions are antithetical to who I am and I need to get my head straightened out. This was a message and a wake up call for myself. Also, the title is in fact from the show I love called Shameless.

Lately I’ve kept thinking How you’re only late if you show up I don’t wanna be in someone else’s web of memories I don’t wanna be the guardian angel who returns from the heavenly gates And saves the lives of who he once befriended Cause why do I have to leave at all? Even though what I’m feeling now feels wrong Doesn’t mean that what that was, was right Keep manifesting it Even cinderella’s shoe came off When it was said to be a perfect fit Keep manifesting it And keep hating yourself for doing it Dark scars in a cracked mirror of maps that could’ve lead somewhere someday If the blood stains red, Then what are we doing here anyways? And I’ve never even truly seen my own face before So what are we doing here anyways? Stop the ing car and move on Before you confabulate your memories and flood your mind, onto the road And kill us and the innocent people just trying to get home Stop the f-ing car and move on I wonder how I’d even know that that was right When back then I was a kid Even cinderella’s shoe came off and it was said to be a perfect fit Stop the f-ing car and move on She said, "you've always been mature for your age But you've never sounded more like a child" Part of me has become All of what I preach against Drowning daily in this flood of memories But even the wicked need rest

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