You dig, I trip.
You keep diggin’, I’ll fall.
You dig deeper, I might evolve into someone greater than the woman before the fall.
Will you catch me?
If not, I hope there’s cushioning.
I’m not comfortable falling under the conditions of second guessing.
I don’t think I’m ready. I swear, I turned my head and you pushed me.
Or was it when I bent down to tie my shoe, is that the reason you offered to do it for me?
You put a lot of work into that digging, was it all for me?
Or is there another falling after me, Is there someone before me?
Am I the only one trying to grasp it?
I know that some times happens, but I’m not too fond of traffic.
Is this a two way street?
Red is Stop. Yellow is Yield. Green is Go.
So should I go now, slow down, and stop completely at a stand-still?
Or should I stop now, start slow, then go through with the motions.
At the rate I’m falling now…I may hit the bottom of the ocean.
I’m running out of metaphors, I think I have hit the bottom line.
Like basically, I like you. I can see Love if we both try.
I’m not sure if you know this poem is about you. I’d be disappointed if you couldn’t decipher
if your right from what I write.
Sometimes I feel like you know me so well, but there’s a lot of stuff I hide.
Like my smile behind my pride. The pain behind my eyes. The fear behind my laugh. These feelings behind these lines.
Truthfully, I had to write this to get you off my mind.
Unfortunately, right now I don’t have time.
I have tunnel vision. Right now I’m at that red light.
I’ma take my time tho, until that light mellows out to yellow.
When I have my goals straight, my thoughts in place, and my dreams at the finish line.
If you’re still there waiting, I’ll come pick you up on the way.
All I ask of you is not to feel obligated to wait on me.
I’m still waiting on myself.
I’d rather put development into myself, instead of you accompanying me on the trail and errors.
I want to be ready. I have yet to discover my full self.
I guess I wrote this piece to express these feelings subliminally.
I’ll laugh when you think this poem is about you, but
Who else could it be?