Alive

I am quarreling
With security;
Failing to believe
I am endangered.

I am struggling
With health;
Failing to accept
I am sick.

I am dissatisfied
With love;
Failing to decide
I am hated.

I am bickering
With comfort;
Failing to accept
I am poor.

I think I may be paranoid;
My heart beats
With anticipation,
Refusing halting.

I think I may be fretful;
My mind rotates
With worry,
Disdaining comfort.

I think I may be ungrateful;
My will confounds
With ambition,
Resisting providence.

I think I may be silly;
My pulse quickens
With gusto,
Refusing mending.

Am I paranoid
When I secure myself
Against everything
I do not grasp?

Am I sick
When I worry too much
About a future
I cannot control?

Am I ungrateful
When I forget to say
Thank you
For even little things?

Am I bad
When I control life
Taking fewer chances
Swelling my pride?

by samuel nze

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