If you’re reading this, I’d like you to be cautious because I’m still learning about the man I am.

I don’t love myself, but I wish I did.

 

Opinionated, I’ve been absent to my world,

too early, too late, – never just in time.

 

Someone shows me love and my fight or flight kicks in,

bear witness the lack of acceptance I hold for myself.

 

I am poor with a capital PO, 

weight of a capitalistic society leaves me

bitching about how life isn’t fair.

 

Tender to the wrong touch,

nauseous over my own white savior complex

and how my best will never feel good enough.

 

I can make a decision when there’s a gun pointed at my face,

but never about food.