Today is a day that I like myself.
I can't really speak for anyone else
But as I come to grips with my own
Mental health
It helps to keep track of both lows & highs.
As I grow older and closer
To my imminent demise
My varying moods rarely are a surprise.
I no longer measure
The quality of any given day
By a mere fractional moment
Where I slip up and say
Something unkind to myself
If along the set path I may stray
Or denigrate another, forgetting to pay
A compliment forward
My attitude untoward
It's just my innate imperfection; it’s true.
I can waste precious time
With no reason or rhyme
Catch myself feeling immensely blue
But then I can call clearly to mind
Reasons to smile, aplenty I find
I'm in good health; I'm young and fit
And even in hard times, don't quit
Have all my teeth, a good head of hair
A shape so curvy it's unfair
Impaired vision, admittedly
Corrective lenses help me see
A mind advanced, also by chance
Good friends, few foes, lovely family
I have a relationship unmeasured
An unequivocal, priceless treasure
With the Grand Creator of us all
He's never failed to heed my call
I'm blessed beyond my wildest dreams
And even at my lowest, it seems
To be well worth both the good & strife
That comes with messy, uncertain
Yet beautiful life.
About the Creator
Syncere
Syncere (noun) An author/poet & barely tolerable human being. Masterful trickster of family & friends, as they actually support her. In another life, could've been a failed comedienne. In the grand scheme of the multiverse, she already is.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.