Stewing in the skin of my inward eye
probable and prone to tunnel vision
I satisfy
the perversity of repetition
When impulse takes me by the hand
we give substance to silhouettes
We do what we must
to quiet the fuss
Out to seek
what is seeking me
Hunting for a higher Truth
People hand the best they can
not the way
you want them to
When I say, I have no words
I’m not trying hard enough
When I say, I have no choice
my mind’s been made up
We do what we must
to quiet the fuss
With my voice, I collapse
I’ve never had my heart broken
only an ego scratched
and my desire requires many reminders
Harmonious woman, you deliver life
everything else passes or purely assists
Don’t try to make love
it already exists
And excuse
my imposition
but consider the privilege
it is to consider the position
you’re in
Forgiveness
isn’t as much as what you leave
as it is
to where you return
When will you learn you have so much to learn?
Oh, we do what
we
must
Britta B.