Sometimes I want to write
But am not sure what
I want to express
Nothing to impress upon you
Except the need to rid myself
Of excess mind stuff
It’s therapy
It’s release
It’s an exorcism
An affair of the mind
One to another
Always wanted a brother
Had a sister instead
Is as it is
Strokes my hair,
My mother, as she tells me
Put your backpack on and go
Just go
Get away from yourself
So I did.
But you know,
One returns to oneself
You can’t run forever
Sometimes you just have to
Sit with yourself
And have that conversation
You’ve been avoiding
Sometimes it’s time
To reabsorb your many you’s
And acknowledge your shadow
As being part of you.