A thing or two to loose

How long until I screw it up?
Watching the fuse of your patience disappear.
Feeling overwhelmed yet repeated. You set my machine to high.
Of course you love me, what am I thinking?
Yet only if I’m perfect. Run, jump, swim higher faster. Better.
The strength within cannot be graded by your yard stick.
The one you beat, trick ad strike with.
I feel small and defeated. Lost in the forest.
Looking beneath and seeing no safety net of you.
Just a stern ringmaster, cracking a whip.
It comes down to the fact I haven’t got it all figured out.
And I ask, who does?
Allow me to spin in my chronic chaos, and love me for me.


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