The question is…

How do you stop yourself
from counting lines on the lips.
Part 2 for the books.
First words inked.

I’ve always only remembered
the least memorable details.
And you have no idea why
I choose to tread water, poor thing.

Answerless for fear of falling over
the railing, into the water, never-ending.
And it’s likely
I’ll never write because of it.

Answer this: when will I grow
a few inches north of cowardice
and challenge the
societal damage?

Preconceived and too determined,
I can be just the worst person.
Standards set so low and shallow,
but we always seem to drown.

Pound your gavel
into my face,
and judge, and judge,
and judge away.