Is the battle imaginary or real? Without getting too philosophical, although I already have dived into that deep pool, I wonder if I should spend so much time inside my own head. I have a love hate relationship with myself. From within springs revelation and inspiration, beauty, nobility and gratitude but spewing from that same well are things which are unpleasant, and not at all what I want. Is it all me? Do I own myself? Is my mind my own?
The feeling of being somewhere and doing something accompanied by the nagging whisper that I should be somewhere else, or that I want to be somewhere else. I'm tossed around like a salad and turning as green as lettuce from nausea. I'm going to be eaten as a reward for my endurance. This whirlwind blows through my nerves and boils in my blood: I'm trapped, and although I feel alone, I know I am not. This is the storm cell of my life. Is choice an illusion? Is anybody listening? Does anyone care?
I’m frequently floundering, forever fearing failure,
far flung, flippant and fancy-free
forcefully finicky and inflexible
fitfully frantic and fantastically foolish.
fit for the fiery furnace.
I am human.
Friendly, fulsome and fervent.
finite and fragile but full of fearless faith
fighting feeble fiends with feisty fists of fury
fully furnished and fortified.
firmly fastened, I’m fully forgiven
I am saved.
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