The way I do it

sorrow is a tool I use

to blind myself from the views

and sequester myself in security

free from responsibility

or at least that’s what I can tell myself

when I sow the seeds of sorrows wealth

and turn inward to warm the soil

of my familiarly innocent toil

with my innocence comes my blame

at the world and people, my protective flame

If I make myself, again, like child

I may once again be worthwhile

even as I scrape the bottom

in hopes that no one has forgotten

in hopes of making sense today

of why my love has gone away

and in hopes of forcing my love back

I use my sorrowful attack

I plunge myself into the depths

of my beautiful regret

and there I stay, a selfish child

refusing wisdom, suckling pride

but I am not a child no matter what

or how it feels caught in the rut

the sorrow brings me back to youth

because that’s where I’ve kept my truth

this world today doesn’t fit my view

and sorrow is the tool I use.