There are people who are holding it down, day after day.
Comfortable in this foreseeable goal; go to sleep on time
Be a good parent…
To be an unstructured person, on the other hand; it wasn’t god’s gift. To be trained to follow rules makes you more structured. You got your rights and your wrongs aligned. You know what your goals are. You got a job to do.
To be unstructured makes you stand outside of the circle. You’re a hot mess and your life’s a wreck. You can’t hold down on anything. You’re always left guessing, fleeting, lost and such.
Get your act together and do yoga. Eat healthy and contemplate shit in the middle of the night. Stand there and listen, be stoic, but be sappy as hell when the time is right. To be structured and yet so unstructured. It’s a convoluted life for kids who grew up with no rules.
The voice tells me to get into the elevator and to go to a certain floor. I do so as told. Instinct tells me to walk down the hallway. There’s promise of a grand prize; the greatest thing, the highest goal. There’s supposed to be something that I’ve always wanted at the finish. I’m told to open the door. I do so.
And there you stand, behind that door
wearing a black and white tuxedo. Your chiseled face looking even sharper against the shadows. Your creamy skin and shiny hair, contrasting each other. Your glass-like eyes, contracting in the spotlight directed at you.
You are fully attentive and looking at me,
but with a look of worry. Wordlessly, you give a notion that you want me back, that you’re begging for me now. That you’re willing to disregard everything for me and that I could too, for you.
But there’s something unkind, untrustworthy, and cold about this whole new setup. There’s doubt brewing in my gut.
There’s an uneven tune playing in my ears.
And there’s a sad, tragic, unstoppable feeling,
that I wished it were true.