Feed The Good Wolf
Whichever wolf you feed
is the one that lives.
How am I supposed to
be positive
amidst this mess?
When I don’t belong here.
When I can’t afford a ride home.
When I won’t fit in.
Be positive.
I’m positive it isn’t that easy.
I’m positive that so much bad
happens here.
In this life
in this city
in this mind
that to “be positive”
won’t fix my problems.
But into my skin, it’s inked.
Those words forever attached
to someone I believed in.
In this café, no one
believes in me.
No one believes in you, either.
Does anyone believe in
anything
anymore?
What about God?
Does God believe in me?
Did God believe in you,
before He put you in my heart,
in your car,
in your garage,
on Christmas Eve?
Or what about you?
Did He believe?
Before your brain was eaten away,
your memories,
your hair,
your smile.
How am I supposed to
be positive
when I smile and don’t mean it
when I cry and don’t show it
when I’ve been asking for a break
for two years now
but wrongs keep happening?
Teach me how
to be positive.
Like the end of a battery
help me light this up.
The good wolf is hungry.
But don’t get me wrong,
this life is beautiful.
I have so many gifts –
a bright smile,
bright eyes,
a bright mind.
Are they doing me any good, though,
when I don’t want them anymore?
When this life isn’t good enough?
When my green tea
my Bible
my apartment
my outlook
isn’t enough for me?
Or maybe
it’s too much to handle.
God gave me
so much good
that He needed to throw in
a little bit of bad?
A little.
Two deaths.
Two almosts.
Some emotions.
A couple tears.
But I need to
be positive
because you told me to.
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