tumbling down, to the bottom of the hollow,
where nothing is such that can distract
me, finding myself surrounded by
my many sides: polar, dual, multilingual,
.
I meet up, with all my fragments at once,
so many, diverse, contradicting, insane,
and I discern, how complicated I am,
the whole lot I do, comes from them
.
acting it out for me, all these different traits,
dwelling in the same flesh, blood and bones,
combating for and against each other,
in a conflict of their impeccability and worth,
.
wanting to be an effective voice in my deeds,
I can not sprint away from them, from
these apparitions brought up within me,
sustaining inside me, being a part of me,
.
something I could do is assemble them,
into a single piece: befuddled, messed up,
ridiculous, dumb, strangled by the knots
of the properties tied of each into a bundle,
.
or I could arrange them in a queue,
beckoning the one I need at a moment,
restraining others, by my craft, from disrupting,
and invading the progressions of my mind,
.
but I doubt it would work out, for I am but
a slave to my instincts, and not the ruler,
and that is why it happens, that I get entombed
into doubts, fighting off with my identity, with myself
.
Well, this is the poem for 5 November for NaBloPoMo. I have also joined up with Rarasaur‘s team, Nano Poblano, as I venture into posting thirty poems in thirty days.
Also, I am linking it up with the Trifecta challenge, where we have been asked to use the word, craft, referring to the skill in deceiving to gain an end.
HA's Place 