Scribbled Thoughts

You try to stay casual,

calm your heart,

convince your mind

it’s just an ordinary meeting

with people you’ve met before.

A catch-up, not an enquiry.

You begin to conjure

cruel aspects of personalities

you’ve never witnessed before,

catastrophising conversations

that will happen

until you end up outcast

and alone.

A few hours later

you laugh at yourself,

relieved that all had gone well

and annoyed that

you worried yourself for nothing,

like usual.

We can, if you want,

exonerating me of all guilt

and pushing the consequences

onto you,

but letting me share in the benefits.

If you want,

the three words

that used to feel considerate,

but now irritate

and put you on the offensive

to defend your right

not to always

be the one

with the responsibilities.

Run, skip, swim

life waster

fill the days with sweat

to feel accomplished.

Select challenges for causes

you don’t even register,

all for selfish reasons

to motivate yourself.

Perhaps other people’s suffering

will penetrate your conscience

once you reach your

petty ambition.

You’re bad for me,

but I’m stuck in my habits

and the journal isn’t helping

to break you.

Get into a routine, it advises

and stay away from temptation.

But you’re always there

and nothing helps

me to ignore you.

You know me,

You bring me to life

and no new hobby

will be enough

to reform my very self.

Forever can spare

a minute

to look back

and reflect

and regret

and hope

things could be different.

Forever can spare

an hour

to remember

and reconstruct,

to rewrite

and fantasize.

Forever can spare it;

that’s what forever is.

Drip down

and create sticky paths

to trap shoes

and wrench them

from feet.

Claim the prize

of captured soles

forever empty

with no occupant.

But don’t they make

a beautiful collage

to marvel at,

as they block your path?

They call a trap

and I guess I am,

trapped in this body

that isn’t really mine.

I love the fingers,

the toes, the head,

but parts feel wrong

they don’t belong

and I wish to cut, slash

remove everything

until I am real, whole.

I have a box of forbidden items,

ones I wear to become whole.

The weight of fake breasts

steadies my breathing,

the flowing flow of light fabric

lifts my mouth into a smile.

Make-up softens my skin

and a wig highlights my personality.

I cannot change my voice

but extravagant necklaces mask

my masculine apple.

People see me, the real me,

are pleasant and friendly

until they hear me talk

and call me a trap.

I don’t want to be a trap,

I just want to be myself.

Paladin to a demon,

a noble class corrupted,

with the power seeped through

from a being with no soul.

Dreams of grandeur

die on the blade

that can only be summoned

with death’s intent.

Let it fall and die a fool?

Or live and become

the most feared creature

to plague our nightmares.

He is confident, resilient,

he will say he’s right

and believe it

even when he’s wrong.

She’s not confident

but still resilient

in a silent way.

She will speak

with a slight mocking undertone

to the one who is wrong.

Both have doubts, anxieties,

both need pushing to achieve

what they want.

I love them both very much.

Prompt: Compare and contrast personality