Self-Aware
I am too self-aware, I know many of my flaws
They pick and they prod with luck, until I fall
They are ingrained like the rings of a tree
They grow like weeds through a crack in concrete
They flow like the water below, to supply a well
They are secretively silent, waiting to be tapped,
They go all the way to hell
My flaws are like grains, too numerous and small to count
Yet they are like mountains, seen from far, with no oxygen count
Either way, they are too grand to conquer, a force with a fist
And they make me want to holler and have a fit
My flaws are like the wind, not seen to the eye
Circular with no pattern, forcefully moving by
And again, like water which is situated up top
Seeking my lowest level and oh, I fear, they will never stop
My flaws are grand and too numerous to count
They travel, they surface, and they always end up on top
I am too self-aware and aware in myself
A flaw within a flaw
All by itself
Copyright © Danielle Wayman | Year Posted 2017
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