Their is no free freedom
Always questioning my own motives,
and never quite sure if I have my best interest
I wonder if waiting through the craving for transition
will settle me, only time will tell.
I sabotage possibilities
and their natural state of uncertainty.
(I have a secret addiction to fresh gazes and constant change)
People make promises about their futures
like professional palm readers or
a holy army marching through life
husband, child, wife.
I know girls who knew they wanted to be mamas
as soon as they could conceive of the idea
and predestined papas
with one hand on their training wheels
and the other on a car seat…
I’ve made plenty of pacts with past lovers
that have blown away behind me
maybe still written somewhere.
It’s hard to take words seriously,
especially when there are so many.
Fear is beside me all the time,
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