So...
I did that thing.
Again.
I just didn't get it,
Why I still did what I didn't want to.
I knew it was a problem.
Yeah, seems I always knew it was,
But it wasn't, it was a symptom,
Of a symptom.
I kept asking how to fix the product.
Fix my life.
I needed to repair the machine.
Repair me.
I needed to change a specific part.
Rebuild a part of myself.
Broken wasn't the word.
Not pieces,
No big blows,
Not holes,
Everything was there,
Just,
Some were crooked.
Bent parts.
Twisted parts.
Twisted parts don't work right.
They bind,
Push good parts aside,
Scar good parts.
They just don't fit where they belong.
Or anywhere.
How do you fix bends and twists?
?
Bend them back,
In the right direction.
Which is?
?
Well, why are they bent?
How did they get twisted?
What happened,
Or didn't?
Hard to tell,
When you've never seen them
Any other way,
Than bent.
Good parts are made new every day.
How are good parts made?
What was different,
When the bent parts were being made?
Why did they start out twisted?
?
Parts are made by other Machines.
Broken, bent, worn-out machines.
No perfect machines exist.
Broken machines making parts of me.
This pushed on That
Because the Other
Was broken
By Another.
So... really all That needs
Is to be bent this way.
One push,
Hard push,
But so simple.
Only took two decades,
To learn what to fix,
And how.
By learning to ask why.
...
... should have hired a mechanic...
YOU ARE READING
What I 'Felt' To Say Was...
Poetry"Poetry can be therapy, so shut the door and get comfortable, we've been through a lot since our last visit. Glad to see you brought coffee. Just a reminder, I know this is expensive, but like life there are no guarantees. I do expect to stir s...
