They say to learn discipline
you have to train your brain like a  dog.
So to heal, do I raise my heart like a child?
I put bandaids on cuts that are a little over minor.
I cannot risk help that is greater than me
afraid it might be diagnosed with something fatal.
I say you cannot indulge in memory of who is now
when your mind is supposed to sleep by 8.
I hold it's hand in big unfamiliar places.
I say it's okay to express yourself
but when expression turns into deflection
I thought it may be time for a nap.
I fed you portion sizes bites of courage
I don't remember why I always fed you chunks of lost hope.
I am sorry.
I let you roam outside to explore and play.
You come back with a small scrape.
I haven't let you back outside for a while.
I'm afraid you find no joy in playing anymore.
You have dreams of going to back to who was then.
Riding the roller coaster of emotions.
Cotton candied hope.
never ending building blocks of devotion.
doesn't it sound fun?
Horrifying.
I've whipped my brain into a machine.
My heart has it's own mind.
I think it's okay to let my heart grow and touch what's
outside of me once in awhile.