Paradox~

I'm a paradox.

I know I need to sleep early,

But I'm up till 2 am reading,

And writing what seems to me as senseless poetry.

I'm a paradox.

I know I'm fragile. I get hurt easily.

But I still trust people I barely know,

Like they're my family.

I'm a paradox.

I know I'm not the best at all that I do,

But who wants to be the best?

Because when you're the best,

You've got no one to challenge you.

For I strive on challenges,

Whether I can solve them or not;

Or better yet, understand them or not.

I remain faceless to my fears,

But I know what they feel like:

The shape of their nose like a wilted stem of a rose;

The crook of the neck like a pillow of bones;

The band of the ear like a whisper meant only for the flesh;

The delicate eyelashes against my fingers,

Like words written out of a broken nest.

The gentle curve of the lips

Meant to sprout the ugly secrets;

The lush hair of black, ends frayed,

The lavender and lemon fragrance is what stays.

The cheekbones made of stone,

And its features limp without a smile ,

Like a statue engraved in the stone of my soul

I will forever keep you deep inside of me waiting for me to burst open,

Like a part of me,

My very own.

I'm a paradox.

I know.

I want to get better but is it because I must?

The pain that binds me together is the nexus that links to me to what I was-

What I was before it took the better of me.

And I sat through counseling like I had to pierce an arrow into a fish.

I'm a paradox.

I love people too easily,

And I do too much for them,

I expect too little.

And I get hurt when I don’t get what I need.

I'm fragile, I know.

But there was once a time where I was fragile, not like dry leaf, but fragile like dynamite is.

But that is dead and gone and passed ,

And all that is left of me are pieces after the crash.

I'm a paradox.

I know I should love myself,

But sometimes my mind isn't mine to control.

I should try to heal myself,

But it would mean cutting myself from what was left of me

And I don’t think I’m ready to do that,

Not just yet.

I don’t think I’m ready to do that

To kill what I was before,

Broken and dusted, due to be assimilated.

I don't think I’m ready,

To leave what I loved of me,

To be taken away by the waves on the shore.

So don’t be too hard on me if I take my time.

Trust me, it's much harder for myself that I show it to be,

But I wouldn't expect you to believe,

For all you see is me failing and falling and crying secretly in the bathroom.

No, it's harder.

But I don’t expect understanding from souls that believe life isn't for those who try to keep themselves safe and sound.