Life’s a chore

I swished my life around like Listerine mouthwash,
Gurgling and spitting it out.
I put it down,
And refused to pick it back up again.
Some nights,
I push it away,
Tucked behind the sofa,
Kicking the messiness of my childhood room underneath the bed.

Some nights,
It was like carefully grabbing one of those strawberry wrapper candies, that no one knows where they come from,
And sneaking away,
Two then three of them,
To save it for later.
I must savor it for a moment,
Because I’m not sure when it will come back.

I like to become,
But becoming is tiring.
It takes this and that,
Skill and a swift kick in the…
But what I really like to become,
Is consistent with myself,
Pluck the self-doubt out like an eyelash,
Without a wince.
Look all the people I’m afraid of in the face,
Who’ve got no idea why they make me feel this way,
But for once I want to settle it,
Once and for all,
Stomp my foot,
Stick my tongue out,
And say I like me,
Because I am becoming me.

A candy dish on the counter,
I swish my hand in its shallow bowl,
Grabbing the best,
And spitting out the nuts in chocolates,
Folding them in my napkin.
Because settling is not the same as adapting.


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