I have sat and thought about all that I am — true, and all that I am not — false,
But I still find that I can be heartless albeit with a pulse,
I rue the times I spent trying so hard for the pointless, lost,
And am far from shrewd for the dimes I spent trying not to be plotless, cost.
There were days when I slaved away hoping to be seen to portray commitment,
When in fact I only aimed to be free of the fray in myself: madness,
I thought I could be better in my ways than those I found inept: loftiness,
But I am no less a wreck than the places from which they crept: hot mess.
Still I am, as much as I am not,
Yours in perpetuity,
Evans Mbora Campbell.