They say row your own canoe.

I wanted to but the silvery oar slips from my sticky fingers,

I couldn’t help but stare into the water,

It was frigid, almost clear,

Just like an old window pane,

Glass you can see through, but only if you really try,

We can see right through each other if we really want to,

The window is sharp enough that I scrape myself when I reach toward the waves I  thought were soft,

What would have happened if I  had held on a little tighter?

They say go your own way.

I tried to make my own way in the world,

But other’s curious footsteps followed my own,

And I was immersed into the crowd I  had once come from,

A fish lost in the school I thought I belonged to,

And each fish is thinking the same thing,

I open my mouth but all that comes out is a bubble of nonsense,

Everyone looks my way but they don’t understand me,

They don’t get it,

I don’t get it.

They say do your own thing.

But what if I’m tired of thinking?

I am a painting, and the frame is a little off center,

It’s noticeable, but no one will mention it or attempt to correct me,

I am a puzzle piece somewhere I  don’t quite fit,

And I’m perfectly aware that I’m out of place,

Yet I keep trying to make things work,

I’m out of place but I  still try,

I try to look at the puzzle from your perspective,

You are out of place too,

Isn’t everyone?

If we don’t allow ourselves to make our own decisions,

Are we really living?

Will we ever be satisfied?

The idea that maybe one day we will be is what really matters,

So I hold the oar,

But this time I’m holding on just a little tighter.


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