MUSINGS OF AN MVP

  Photo source: Canva When I die, I want them to read my poems at the service. Since I was a child, The question drove me wild. No one had an answer, I was afraid to ask again: What is the purpose of a birthday? Is it to celebrate surviving? A mad life in a mad world, One more year— Is that the real victory? Or is it reflecting on where I have been a nd  where I need to go? Not to wander off my path, Even though I might stagger, Forward thinking, past leaving, Past staying where I do not belong, Passing by the fear that once inflamed my insecurities. They tried to kill me a few times, I prayed day and night, Until each battle was won. A pensive poet permeated from my personality. I chose to love her. To love the words that pour out of her. Listen close, I am also learning t o listen close. I hope to see another year, On my way to rest in peace. Until then, I will count my blessings.