Blind Soul

I don't know what I want. I know what I need.

That is to be happy. The most simple difficult of things.

I’ve been handed a map, told exactly where to go

And the instructions are true, I know! I know,

I can't make myself believe.

I think I want to get lost. I want to take shortcuts

that end in mistakes. I want to explore

the alleyways and hills of all sorts of shapes

I want a romantic struggle, what a good story takes.

I think I want to be angry. Angry at me

not taking what I need. Angry at you.

Not giving me what I said. Angry at the world,

For being disgusting. For being deserving of hate.

But anger, anger isn’t what anyone needs.

I think I want to be unhappy.

That’s what my eyes say

at least. I want to,

be broken. Broken things are prettier

than things pristine.

I think I want to be tragic;

It would make this less a bore.

I think I’ve chosen beauty over joy,

Selfish instinct:

weak choice.

I don’t know what I want except for one thing

I want to want what I need.

Yes, that’s the one thing.