Roots left in the cracks of a building

I sit here, lost, where I have never been lost before. Tired, where I have never tried sleeping before. And all these old feelings, in this new place, make it all feel familiar. Like I’ve been here before. Though I’ve journeyed far from where I was born.

I cannot shake the demon off my back. I have tried and tried and tried. He doesn’t even hold that strong Just a rooted grip. His body long left behind, Just his thin fingers left in my organs.

I don’t know what else to do, Though sometimes I feel the answers so naturally. That weakness, the cracks in my psyche, left by Insecurity. Oh how she belittled me. Oh how he doubted me. Oh how they tried every way to improve me. Oh how they failed… and saw the failure in me.

It was a strong demon, But one I could confuse. It was a cunning demon, But one I could endure. It would seize me in the night, Offer the comfort of pitilessness. Worse than death to survive, resolved to never truly live.

And yet I sit here, lost, With scant roots in plenty cracks I sit here tired, Untied boots, wrinkled slacks. That demon long ago, Feared this new man that I know, This lost man that I am, Tired man, moving forward, Confident man, having a seat to take a break.