Gauche

We all are fucked up, just in a different place,

so we point out to others, for their cracked parts.

But then we forget, that someone is full-fleshed

in parts, we are starved and bruised.

Therefore we crave a planned chaos

to open our untreated scars.

Until then, we take up our chin 

and whisper- not today.

Because the scars need to be filled with something,

that is not hollow- the confusion, the nights, the fights.

I say you are fucked up, but so am I

and the one listening to us.

For, at least I, need my subconscious,

to know the reasons for something I did without giving a 

a single thought, to decide whether to regret or crystallize.

I want to pick up people when they get down,

I thought it was that easy, but then that I realize-

I have problems stretching my arms

even to pick myself up.

And not everyone who is picking oneself up

will so readily stretch an arm to receive grip,

I think I could’ve been one of the reasons for the slip.