Prose, in its simplest form; poetry, the straight forward way.

What is wrong with me?

I am in the midst of figuring out where I am and why it is that I am.

Here is what I know;

I am incapable of achieving perfection nor anything near.

I; just like you, am suffering.

I cannot choose. I cannot choose between this and the ladder or even simply this or that.

Help me.

Show me.

Hear me, please listen.

Can I break more than I am already broken?

Where do those pieces of myself go when they leave me? Where do those pieces go when I lose them? When I toss them aside in haste; where are the parts of me that were stolen?

How?

How can I fix what I have yet to comprehend.

I don’t understand you and as much as I could want to; I may never.

You do not understand me.

You do not understand me.

I fear you never will.

So am I alone?

If I ask out loud, you will say to me I can’t be.

Hear me, please listen…

If; I am not alone;

What is wrong with me?