I’m having trouble separating the fairy dust from the dirt

The storm from the rain

The rain from the flowers

I’m having a hard time trying to forgive and get along

Why can’t we all just get along?

Sure we can, just with the buffer of a pole at least ten feet long

I’m having trouble separating the fairy dust from the dirt

I’m having trouble recognising my courageous voice without my daily dose of rage as a gateway

Who, without my hurdles, is my I am?

A blank page is both a forgiving renewal

As it is an empty room

I’m having trouble defining myself outside of the madness that has come to shape me

 

*   *  *

Thorns and roses, kid, I hush my mind to sleep,

…Thorns and roses.