kinda at peace

Don’t get me started
On the matters of the heart
I looked far and wide
And found this ebbing tide

all consuming
Then nothing at all
But on any given day
You’re still my Wonderwall

Afterall this time
You still have a hug that is lovingly mine

same, as always
but growing, changing, caring still
for the silent tears we don’t dare confess, yet
I keep asking for guidance from the powers at be
And they keep pointing to fears
I’d pushed underground
Echoing gasps of ‘its time’

Be the early bird that catches the best of the worms,
Appreciate your energy enough to know nurturing

Lip service is only worth it
When it’s followed by tough love
The kind that turns into a dove
Crossing the battlefield so lit

flitting through pain

with anxious bravery
with curious enthusiasm

with reserved instinct to make choices otherwise too much to grasp
Supporting characters’ rage and fear don’t know what will come next.
being the lead in this story has been a misfit’s misfortune turned into blips of success
turned into blips of success
i’ve been tricked into others selfish versions of happiness
the same way as i have swept aside others in service of my own
and none of this matters if we don’t appreciate what it’s worth
crafting familiarities within uncertainties is one coping trick
our memories are tough fabric, the stitches hold well
but in all the places you may go and see,
people pleasing doesn’t do much good when they keep leaving
or when you decide it’s time to service another’s joy elsewhere
even though
home keeps being redefined as ‘here’ when certain folks are near
it’s tough to prioritise self-care when you’ve been taught to empathizeย + stay aware
who gets the love, and how much, and why?
is the limit of dedication truly past the sky..? how high?
ย sometimes it’s best to let lyrics explain, or at least try:

https://open.spotify.com/embed/user/1163394460/playlist/2bT0YZjRcSLLsTmm1NV30C

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