Going about the motions from morning to midnight,
trying to silence the sensitivities that swing you over,
and instead march on, focus, task oriented, GSD, one
deliverable after another, wake up, get up, and go,
and then again it is night, my child crying, 4am, my
bones rattle with exhaustion and delicate temperament.
Maneuver through meticulous motions, machine,
marching on from moon fall through moon rise,
silence the sensitivities that swing you over and over.
Life is a tactical, a solvable equation, in and out,
a game of strategy, not wit, of disappearance::
that riddle is you, hidden behind thick metaphor.
And few even notice at all, which is the victory you seek,
in that storm shelter of your soul, surrendered there,
going about the motions from morning to midnight,
silencing the sensitivities that swing you over.
Tag: enfp
Rebel.
“You were a rebellious child.”
My father believed in hierarchy and order, though wasn’t necessarily the beacon of such organization. A rebel in his own right, he was king of the household and all shall bow down to his majesty or else, and never question him or any deviation from his high image of himself.
As an adult, I asked my father why he disciplined me the way he did–so severely at such a young age–and “you were a rebellious child” is the answer I got. His emphasis and tone on the term “rebellious” clearly did not skew positive.
Continue reading “Rebel.”
life with interest 