I stayed up all night losing myself in revolutionary writings in an attempt to figure out why i of all people cling to petite bougeosie notions of love....this is what came of it....i've come to the conclusion i'm just a romantic regardless of my economic politics
It’s 3 in the morning
And I’m trying
To lose myself in someone else’s words
Because mine
Hurt too much
I begin to wonder if I can love at all
Or know what love even looks like
It’s 3 in the morning
And I’m trying to lose myself
In someone else’s words
I know I love my children
But have I ever loved a lover?
I’m not sure
I believed I had but I’m not sure if that’s true
If the have attached themselves
To my heart
Or
My ego
It’s 3 in the morning
And I’m trying
To lose myself in someone else’s words
As I remember there is a greater good
Far beyond myself
And my insignificant existence
And I remind myself
Of my father
As I read his books
And try to determine
Which marks are his
And which are mine
It’s 3 in the morning
And I’m trying to lose myself
In someone else’s words
Because right now
I’m without the capacity to deal
With my own
