My spirit is attractive
and no, I don’t mean it’s pretty.
It attracts energy; kleptomaniac for subtle meanings behind words and actions
of my life’s almanac, all to subtly distract my mind from the intent of it all.
An unseen attack, the bandit of my 26 year old adventure,
The anchor in my grand caper that weighs down the paper of my self esteem because
While I remain unbothered, my spirit bothers me.
Since infancy, it has weaved insecurities based on evidences
of perhaps and maybes
All inclusive to the inconclusive notions of my worthiness.
A fete of regrets, revelrous distress that says I am repulsive
Cooler filled with intoxicating beverages that dull my judgement
And leave me dancing to the music of my maladies.
My spirit is attractive
And unless I address the conflict between my truth and what’s true
It will forever digress to the former.
A divisive demeanor that says that my happiness
Will always have a denominator of stress that leads me
To become only a fraction of the man I’m meant to be
Until I learn to stand up for myself,
The mess of of negativity will always overwhelm my kind, gentle heart.
Quite frankly,
I’m still working on it. I’m still learning.

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