Turmoil
Turmoil taunts and tries me
Always standing just outside… free.
Waiting predatorily
To torment, abuse and torture me.
The dichotomy of good and bad.
A judgement I cannot rectify.
So, limited and linear.
I’m so sad.
I’m not the best judge of me,
Begrudgingly.
I can’t stop thinking
My life has been for not.
I wish the pressure of judgement inside me would stop.
Because it stops me.
I could be so much more.
More round and colorful
This me presently is holding something inside
As a way of being.
My feeling is…
If my thinking could set me free
To spirit away on a shameless nonjudgmental breeze
Just maybe I could actually be
The best of me.
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