From a Certain Point of View.

I do not like myself. I have great difficulty accepting that there are those who love me, who believe and trust in me. To me, my successes are failures. My failures a shameful reminder that I am not good enough. And sometimes it isn’t until I’ve hit rock-bottom for the umpteenth time that I finally look up and see how wrong I was, and how right she was. And for that vicious cycle, I’m always sorry.

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I’m a box of broken glass
reflecting the parts of me
screaming into the void.

A raging storm of sorrow,
crying in the shower
and walking into traffic.

A drugged up hippie,
getting high
to keep my head above water.

Hating the man you love
‘cuz I don’t see him
the way you see me.

Cuz to you I’m not a broken man
in need of fixing,
just pieces in need of holding.

I’m a medicated poet,
finding his voice
among the many in his head.

And a passionate clown,
making you laugh
and only occasionally cry.

It’s all a matter of perspective,
being the man in the mirror
and the one in your eyes.

From a Certain Point of View. Steve Arviso. 2018.

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