shying away,
conscious of hurting others.
stepping into other's shoe
thinking like them.
I manipulate myself
at times angry with myself.
this is my nature
doesn't leave me as my shadow.
bending as waves
with touch of wind
I go forward,
then retreat,
not as myself
but responding to outside.
I bear the pain,
of hurting myself,
rather than others,
that sits as residue
in my conscience,
pricks me through the life's journey.
sentiment weaves
my understanding,
keeping senses awake,
guarding as thorns
leaving inside of me
as soft rose.
Adding your comment:
thank you for entering!
maralisa
