Truth

Those Small Things

The small things in life scare me.

I think and fear that if I become too involved,

I’ll shrink until I’m the size

Of those small things.

I’ll shrink down, and I’ll be trapped

Inside of the minute parts of the world,

And in the deepest recesses of my mind.

The stars won’t be so close any more,

And my world wouldn’t be my world.

Maybe a box,

To hold a little specimen like me.

I would be voiceless

And yet I would most likely have more to tell.

I would have some advantages,

But sadness might cloud them all.

My sanity would become opaque

As the galaxy I might as well not be in.

For, no,

I am merely dust now,

Stuck in a world within worlds.

And it scares me,

Because I know so well and maybe not well enough

Just how weak and pitiful and unsuccessful I’d be,

Trying to drag myself back to reality.

So, don’t,

Don’t focus too long,

Don’t dive too deep.

Don’t stare into the eyes of the world;

That’s what I have to tell myself.

I know I would not be sufficient enough

To dig myself up.

To dig myself out

Of those small things.

I have to stop now.

Before I fall into the numbness

Of the gaping hole my mind creates

In the world inside of myself.

I have to stop before I tell myself to take a step

And then another.

Because I can,

And I almost have,

But I’d hate to truly lose myself.