#5: I'm a poet without a forum

I sometimes wonder if my ability to see both sides of things, including my own self-awareness of my pettiness and jealousy and knowing it is stupid and childish and yet remaining petty and jealous, is a curse.

My mind is a destructive monster. Not with vice, but with finding imperfection everywhere. I then feel the need to fix it, but often destroy it in the process. Usually the things I see that need fixing are people. Sometimes myself included.

I smiled a lot today... not for anyone. Just myself. But I also wanted to cry only moments before or after.

A lot of what I read on this site doesn't bother me. I am not naive about humanity, but I am an optimist all the same.

I just wrote a poem instead of thinking of a 5th secret:

Like a feather I graze you
my words misspell the truth

Will you break if I touch you?
If I place my finger just so
Will everything I see crumble?

Like a sledgehammer I fall
my words spell impending doom

Will the dust of you remain
long after the truth has settled?
Will it destroy all that you are?