David A. Dreibelbis, Dearest
” You were born on a typical night, But it wasn’t the usual fight,
Their own advice doesn’t work, In the end you’re the jerk,
Unless you just tell them they’re right”
Purple, I was born into this world. Somehow it didn’t end there.
A lifeless purple baby, no air inside.
Somehow, I’m still purple at times. Though lately its all the time.
Holding my breath, no air inside
How funny,
Breathe, they say.
As if I haven’t tried that.
Daggers poking inside.
Pricking my lungs, puncturing my heart, stabbing from the inside out.
Some days, I feel special. And not as they say
Sarcastically, with a roll of the eyes.
I feel uniquely beautiful with this mind of mine.
Uniquely beautiful with this skin of mine;
no matter the symbols they may derive.
Uniquely ingenius, something new with each penciled stroke legible enough.
Uniquely worthy, to be treasured and suited perfectly to treasure any you I meet.
Somedays I feel typical. And as they say
With boredom as they move on.
You’ve sized me up in a glance,
You’ve found me typical outside
and defective inside.
Not even a special defective,
just the normal damaged.
Somedays, I find
my fight is lacking
Despite all the fighting I’ve done in my life.
To survive so far, why won’t I thrive?
It seems rude, this unconscious refusal.
I ask everyone’s advice,
Somehow, I expect it to work.
I expect that the cycle will end
That I’d reached a place of healthy plateau
A healthy consistency
A maintenance of some sort
That’s finally enough proof,
that I’ve learned.
that I appreciate you.
that I honor them.
that I respect you.
that I understand them.
In the end, I guess it’s right
I’m still the jerk.
I’m still lacking, failing to meet
Your most basic requirement.
So, yes.
To avoid a fight.
I admit you are right.
Wrong or right-
I defer to you.
Rather than be consumed with regret,
every night.
Special or typical
fight or no fight
Jerk or work
I guess I’m still wrong.
You’re still right.
Leave a Reply