Many of us work hard to find that balance
Ignoring the gray to tune the black and white,
To assemble faux concepts of perfection-
Like a moth swarming around terminal flames
So many of us worry through winter nights
Trembling, contemplating, breathing in stress.
What do I focus on? Time or quality, sleep
Or work, concentration or dissociation...
We all fight our doubts and yet we are ever so
Quick to shake their mangled hands, and smile
At demanding reflections in the mirror
Balance has never been about uncertainty
Balance is about peace in our hearts and
Self-worth in our heads. Effort we exhume
And lessons we hold on to. Victories among
Bruises and all we've done for love in the end.
YOU ARE READING
Sea of Ink
PoesíaThis a collection of my poetry. Most of it is a little dark, as poetry can be.
