When I’m not writing poetry
I feel extremely bad.
I hope that you’ll indulge me
And I hope that you’re not sad-
Dened by the fact I’m suffering.
I’ll be okay. Got God.
I just need to express my feelings
So they don’t get trapped inside
Like the ones that now are torturing me:
Guilt and shame and pride.
I know I’ve reformed most of me
Into someone I like,
But still have trouble loving me,
I’ll get there on a bike.
Of knowledge that I’m God really,
And how can I not love Me?
Each step I take is Divine.
I’ll self-realize eventually.