The things I do, they never seem enough,
My mind heeds mainly the sentiments of others.
What makes their views matter much more to me?
Could be that my opinion of myself feels minor.
It’s not by choice I wish I could erase that,
But love came mostly with an if price.
When I could see what’s deeply hidden,
Beneath the layers of this racing
And of the moments of suspicion,
I might see myself with much more mercy.
It takes the joy out of my actions,
And I’m left feeling incomplete.
Biting my tongue brings even more trouble,
And the resentment slowly builds.
It tries to fill an endless hole,
Nothing will ever feel outright.
But I keep trying till I’m tired,
And then I know it’s time to stop.
I use the time of this awareness,
To raise above the foggy ground,
And when I’m up there in the brightness,
I can jump off the merry-go-round.