It's not the mirror

Making me wonder

If I am, or ever will be

Good enough.


It's the angel on my shoulder

Arguing with the devil

Who lives in my mouth.


It's my self-control

Tarnished as metal

Beneath a heavy layer of rust.


It's the unfinished books

Collecting dust on the nightstand

As I crack open another.



It's all the projects

That I will never

Bring to a close.


It's the time that I spend

In a room by myself

Listening to my family's laughter, —

An open invitation.


It's the things I don't do

That I once did.


It's the things that I want

But may never get.


It's the things that I am

That I'm trying not to be.


It's yesterday

Tinted a rosy hue.


It's tomorrow

Threatening rain.


It's today

Slipping between my fingers

As I sit here

Trying to untangle myself.