I fall in hard and I fall so deep,
But it is precisely these states I find so hard to keep,
I’m slow to hate, but love quick,
And in between an indifference sticks.
I am but me, burnt to a crisp and tender to the touch,
I laugh, sing, mimic and blush,
My actions lead to choices hard and people sad, which is never fun: I crush,
And it’s often just a question of “How long will this lust last?”
In the throes of our gasps and stimulated pants, we never stop to think of that,
We never quite question the possibility of it all going flat,
But reality is brutal in its push for truth; down the idols of your dreams shall crash!
And in those moments you lose the rush,
You know what’s next but it hurts so much,
And as such, you struggle to be honest with the broken trust,
You fight the light that exposes your weakness so stark: caught mid-thrust.
But the real problem you have — what keeps you up at night and such,
Is your inability to be anything other than who you are,
And the fact that you fight it so hard.
You are but Yours,
Evans Mbora Campbell
The Serial Feeler