In the recesses of my mind,
I know the mantras,
I know the oft repeated answers,
but that doesn’t make me feel any more worthy,
worth, such an arbitrary loner,
it hovers in the inter-space of peoples conviction,
bouncing of it’s prison walls,
they keep it there,
a reassurance they can hypnotise themselves into believing,
a comfort they convince themselves,
they’re deserving of receiving.
And here I am, cutting it’s shackles,
unlocking the prison gates,
and leaving it to wander about.
It wants to stay,
and I keep shooing it away.
Entitlement is a delicacy I cannot swallow,
and worth, seems to me a hefty anchor to carry,
who am I to demand it,
who am I to receive it?
The image of my worthlessness,
is lighter, easier to bare,
it’s less work, less care,
worrying about something that’s not there.