Tag Archives: reality

My biggest fear

My biggest fear

Is regret

Having wept

At the end

Cause of all my pretending

And lending


Waiting for life to happen

While I’m napping

Being a host

on someone else’s show

Funny how host has a second meaning

And I’m leaning toward this one


Taking the life right out

Due to doubt

Being proud

Screaming ‘I’m finally awake’

Wide awake

Laid to rest in my bed

While Staring down death

With no option of ‘what next’

But rather being met

With fret

And regret


Thankfully it hasn’t happened yet

There’s still time.


Let Us Not Be Careful


Of the careful

That’s what got you

into this mess

‘Take care’

‘Don’t you dare’


But what ever happened

To go in peace


Now this constant message

Of wreckage

Unless our decisions

Lead to safe destinations

Through careful consideration


Fear laced

With a side of chaste

Making haste

Quick gait

To the closest cage

Where it’s safe

That’s our fate

Unless us arriving

At ourselves

Can be met

By taking risk


Fear out

With reasonable doubt

Day in day out


That we will never arrive

When taking

That worry laden



What can we


From the unseen

I mean

It could testify to

Our own identity

For that which we reject

We must inspect

And I detect

That the introspection

Will lead us to a speck

Of truth

And growth

For what stays hidden

Does so because of fear

Afraid of the




But just think

What led us here

And to get to there

We must be aware

Of why we are so scared

To let down our hair



Yes, you’re telling me but not really 

Because we aren’t quite free

To speak

of that which holds us

So I’m telling myself


Eat right

Fight the urge and purge

It’ll get better

but then it doesn’t

So, I’m stressed to the max

and it’s seen in my actions

Depression and rage times a thousand

You should see me behind closed doors

Man, you would be floored

If you witnessed

Even a hint of it

But, it’s kinda taboo

To discuss

A less than perfect version

So what’s left?

Unrest and anxiety

More pressure to please

Less freedom to be

Fear of being seen

With all my imperfections

So I dare not speak

Of the hidden Inner

That’s riddled with tension

and I’ll keep on pretending

until I’ve sought the one that renders

Me as exceedingly perfect

till the hurtful is no longer worth it

till I expose those

Things that he chose to go 

to the cross for 

and when He rose, He showed

How the imperfect becomes perfect

How the depression becomes redemption

How He chose another ending

Without apprehesion

because He saw me as a treasure

Now, how’s that for value?

And it changed up the game

that I am no longer lame

But now I have the freedom to change!

From the Hood of A Child

Face down


From the waist down


From the neck up


Chalking it up to the way it’s gonna be

Chin up

No luck

Still stuck




Hardly standing




In fear

Afraid to show face

No grace



Only a shadow

Copy of the master


Has to

Self destruct 


Fist up

Defenseless but defensive

Never wins


Seeks revenge


But my father!

My rock

My guide

My master

The one that created this disaster

And I gotta ask

“Did you have to win?”

If so

A long time ago

I would’ve given in

Just hand me the gin

Sinking in

I could do it myself

Don’t care how I felt

Drink it down

Happy now?



Now your slave

Wear the hood that you gave

To hide my face


And see

No more good

Beneath the hood 

Yet there I stood

Still don’t know how I could

Who I am 

I think sometimes I can get wrapped up in the image I portray and feel defeated when I can’t measure up with the ideas in my head.

So I made a list tonight.

It’s a list of what I know that I am.

It’s a list of things I am without apology.

It’s a list to remind me of what I am so I don’t get upset when I’m not things I think I should be.

It’s a reminder not to try to portray anything but the things about me that are.

When I get upset about things contrary to who I am, I am responsible for creating a false sense of self.

No,  I won’t be the mom baking from scratch 24/7. I won’t be the world traveler. I won’t be the made over and dressed for success by 7 am woman. I won’t be a trail runner. I won’t be an Olympic lifter. 

I will still be snarky sometimes. I will cry at commercials and sad stories. I will be a book worm. I will be a friend.
My list of who I am is below.

Anything else either isn’t for me or is an added bonus.