I looked in the mirror and saw my mother face, I remember her stories, her poems, that was so long ago, my mother kind of loyalty was only for her ancestral spirits, I am so tired of trying, so tired of the rules, the injustice that I face daily in the work-place: my job titles has become the one size fits all division, no organization, no time frame, knowingly there’s no such thing as a one-size-fits-all approach. Everybody wants to be the boss; a role that isn’t right for everyone, it’s a huge responsible especially if they can’t lead the team to victory: child play on display, I referred to the situation, one big obstinate headache, day after day after day. If I could overlook the injustice, and freeze my thoughts; if I could only,
If I could only fly