I thought it was me
The whole time.… it was you.
Convincing me that I had been the enemy
Tearing down all that’s familiar around me
Accepting too much
Placing things too high for reaching…
I have yet to find the stool
You are only seeking perfection
Is that not too farfetched?
Amid the worlds imperfection?
A glory that I, myself, have not yet attained
I am only seeking what’s worthy
Surely, I am deserving of that
The enemy…
Feeling like I must conform
To the ways and for the likes of you
When I don’t even know you…
So for now on, I’ll be sleeping
With the t.v. off.

-Sydnē Deon