Trying to bring balance into my self,
Put the confusion onto a shelf.
Hoping to be less offensive
In a pretense of being pensive.
Its easier when microwaves
Are not aiming to enslave.
When they do its worse than hard
To know what holds the dark cards.
Don't want to blame wrong faces
But the puppets hold all the aces.
The past can't be wiped clean,
But its not intended to be mean.
I made mistakes in rushed aims
To figure out the covert games.
Now I must stop the figuring
And try to let peace seep in.
Perhaps it will in due course
And not end up with remorse.
Perhaps if I can just let go
Of the need to see and know.
Perhaps somehow it'll be OK
If the Light shines in each day.
Perhaps Freedom will come
For me and you and everyone.
Perhaps if I hold onto hope
And find a better way to cope.
If I can turn inward even more,
To guard my heart's broken door,
I can somehow still survive
While I aim to stay alive.
The blog this poem is about;