catharsis, part 1

“the world is too much with us”?
pah! I’ve too much of the world
and yet not enough, for I am still young and inexperienced

I love a good romp in the wilderness
bringing me back to my days as a young child, still naive
assured that there would always be something to catch my fall
but no matter how many synonyms for “magic” you stuff into a shoddy poem
it just drains it when you take seventeen (or more!) stanzas to get your words across
did nobody ever tell you that brevity is key?

I can feel disconnected too
always have, always will
but that doesn’t mean that I have to prostrate myself to outdated religions
in order to find a sense of self- rather, the opposite
for melding myself to a set of expectations I know I will never achieve
would be tantamount to suicide

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