Without Writers

We have become strange with worry, our
lives filled with symptoms with messages of
the times…of things we fear we cannot rise
past cannot let go…just watch

This strangeness is endemic is systemic is
normal and natural yet we react like it is new
different (not required) and we worry into
the strangeness like we can’t see it

Disfigured by stress our lives twist in ways
we can’t understand and we let it…we
watch it like we aren’t our lives like we are
an episode on the television

There are no sponsors no commercials
separating this event from the next from the
beginning to the end we roll without credits
without writers gaffers best boys

We should know who we are but we don’t, we
only know what we’re told explained taught
in school in relationships in time we all find
the question unanswered over and over

Acceptance of what we see hear feel and are
wanting is the end state, the final edit, the
reason (for those that need one) that inside
outside we all want to be

We can’t be anyone who we’re not (some try,
some think they try) we all see through a lens
distorted by our own shadow, our own effect
on this perceptual gravity

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