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