So I scream and I blame and get out of whack,
and still I feel the gorilla on my back,
still I am consumed by a sense of lack;
you'd think by know I would have gotten the knack.
There is no contented resolution to be had;
I must release all the negativity and choose to be glad.
Allow that there are times when I will be sad--
Try not to compound it with going mad.
I run an inventory of another's perceived slights;
imagining them responsible for all my inner fights...
and then suddenly dawns one of those rare inner lights;
my own responsibility has me dead to rights.
My expectations of others are unfair at best,
my demands on myself are not enough of a test,
my complaints and gripes and bashing don't rest;
no wonder my life is absent zeal and zest.
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