Guilty
It’s something deeper embedded within
roots that grew you from a story, not yet written,
unsure of what you feel
not knowing why
you do the things you do
or why they make you cry
a foreboding suspicion,
deep in your gut
with no knowledge of why
you stay in this, rut
programmed this way,
you are not at fault
a child in fight or flight
lingers into the adult
overly self-aware
not present in the moment
never a silent mind
only thoughts that are potent. She hides it well,
and gives you a smile
yet her stomach in knots
as if she’s on trial.
K.M.
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