I need to turn my emotions into something
Write them down, lock them in a book
So they can let me be, a freer being
A better me, or try again, at least , to unhook
From my need to control, to decide, to know.
So I take a break and sit down
On a rock, by a path.
So I can watch everyone else passing me by.
I become the witness,
of my own mind. Of my own life
Of my own lies.
“You’re no good at this!”
Says the familiar voice in my head.
I can feel tears filling my eyes
So I gently smile and crave for bread.
I do think I’m no good at this
But it only matters if I care
About feeling worthy of any value
If you remove the thought of self esteem then I dare
Walking around bare feet and taking things on a new face: