Resolutions

Sitting, back hunched, beside myself with apathy,

my fingers clench a pen that I wrap around that one tendril of mine.

I can't remember my natural hair color and that bothers me,

further provoking my agitation.

Where did I shift, or alter,

slow like a mighty mountain to release earth-shattering change.

I am not a perfect statue gracing the world,

and I am not where I should be in the grand scheme of things.

The ink from my pen spits in my hand,

licking and feeding today's new wounds.

If I had the drive to make a resolution,

it would be to connect and become an active part of the day.

I am no longer a witness to the crumbling formations

that construct my life.

I swear though, I will grow to be as attached as I am to this pen,

churning out ideas, writing my flaws.