You choose anger, big, like a raging bull.
I feel it, but it's not mine,
so I wave my cape and you run right by.
You've been hurt and feel controlled-
because of something that happened
before I knew you.
So you recoil, defending, striking back;
I heard the rattle first, stepping carefully.
I feel it, but it's not mine,
so I send flowers, and choose love.
You haven't forgiven...whomever.
believe me, I know.
I feel it, but it's not mine to pull out.
So I pray, and choose love.
You've been told to be strong,
but alone is not strong. It's lonely.
As I move towards you, you withdraw
like a turtle into your shell.
It doesn't help when I chase you.
You choose busy, filling the time.
Been there, done that.
But busy doesn't fill you up, it just wears you out.
People are more important than tasks, I've learned.
You choose worry, which, like a rocking chair,
gives you something to do, but gets you nowhere.
Even though you keep trying to hand it to me,
it's not mine to carry.
I traded anxiety for peace a while ago,
why would I go back to
false expectations appearing real?
I've found that I can start a new habit anytime,
not just as a New Year's resolution.
There's plenty to go around,
would you like to choose love, too?
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