Part of me is still looking for
A way out, even though
I escaped years ago.

Old habits die hard, it seems:
The search for what I already
Have continues, but the ideal
Has swapped places with
The suboptimal.

Perhaps I left something of me
Behind, maybe simply
The shadow of all that
Slowly decayed, a ghost that
Still seeks the heaven
The rest of me finally found.

Or is it merely that
I still refuse to learn to
Let myself enjoy the joy
I found at last?

12/14/2020

Posted on 12/18/2020
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