Assumptions Hurt

A Poem

Assumptions Hurt

Everybody thought I was gonna be fine. I was intelligent, articulate and brilliant. I had a way of shocking and surprising people—making them think etc, etc.

But NONE of those things were Me, or mine. I just saw all of it as things that people praised me for; I assumed it was supposed to make me happy, or take me somewhere in life. And I accepted the transference, but I never had any passion for the things people thought of me. I was more concerned with what was going on in this world I existed in. And why no one saw it the way I did.

Although perspective shifts and all our concepts are traveling through space. Although our truths fall in and out of existence; humans seem uninterested in changing the world. I assume the fear of doing it all alone. Those corrupting things; they will grow vines over you vision, trap your limbs and wrap themselves around your throat.

Oh to whom much is given...

I never had my quality validated. Requirements overwhelm my crown. And I often wonder if I requested this place. Sometimes I feel like I crash landed. And then I feel like, I'm just the force before the fall.

Now I accept that I can not be one without the other. Because I have certainly fallen. Built statues not after my true likeness. Fashioning stone against my purpose. All while desiring to Be the clay.

That crack and chisel, must be a beautiful ache. Somehow. Because I assume that debilitating fear.

What then of my favor? I free Myself out of love, like the sunset that opposes my own moon. How opposition moves impact. Assuming I need tension in my atmosphere, because people often test my theory. And I, impulsive, engage with fury. I don't know if they see me, but them I do see.

I assume toxic tangos/have plenty to do with self-loathing.

Truly, soul ties tangle. Yet so do bloodlines; sharply sending karma in vein.

And I can no longer pour into un-charged waters.

My ability to absorb has been compromised. And I assumed the position of giving up, believing I am too unreal. An asset became a position out of favor. Resentment swells.

Yet, I assume the position of not letting go. Apparently, I do not know how.

Isolation has become a favorable resolution; where I assume Love for the whole of everyone else. And that hurts.

surreal poetry
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Rosa Sparks

TFW you're the mirror and so you write about the floods of unpopular humanities. 

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