Waste of Time
Apologising without changing — A poem
I manipulate myself to pay with triple respect. As I am wrong again, I admit, and I am struggling to find someone to take note. Apologising for what I did not mean to say while considering re-masking what remains of me.
I would run-away with what little is left if I could see through blames paralysing light.
Should I wonder why I collapse into a buried state while I am apologising for others hate that I create. I let in anger that is not mine. Allow disbelief to force me across the line. A position that invents a paranoid prediction. Time will never give me a second to waste to break the habit of manipulating myself.
Is it easier to mistrust than seeking out the truth? Is it easier to bear the weight than walk tall? Is it easier to apologise than change?
Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed this, please check out my other work






