Walked a Lot of Roads to Get to Today — Jaded

Self-worth is what I seek in my solitude.
Painted walls to match the exterior of my wrecked mind,
catching the attention of folks,
creating an audience, an offering.
They’re drawn to the complexity of my content,
shaped by the woke industry’s post-traumatic lens,
while I come to terms with my body’s fragile control,
in conflict with the mainstream narratives of others.
It’s a Catch-22,
bringing me to the limelight on others’ burdened shoulders—
family cries, even imploding impulses—
once again, the key to uplifted success.
Wrenched by the weight of heartfelt cries,
I prosper in moments, hours, seconds,
living each like it’s my last.
The only moments of sanity come
when I’m tagging along with the woes I cry.
Sometimes this mindset brings tears,
tortured memories when the pain isn’t present.
It’s the fear factor of being with others.
I strive alone,
capture the essence alone,
and I will forever live with the happiness of my own
existence—alone.
I’m okay with that.
So should you be.