You do you, baby.
There’ll be things done for you
but you do you, baby.
There are many who demand
to sponsor your attention
But your world must be of few, baby.
Edge of knife, fear of god
Desert in summer, formidable thought
You want to walk to the end of time
But there’s a nail in your shoe, baby.
Bilateral agreement of art
Gravelled mind and a vocal heart
Eyes on the prize, soul in mud
But “I am enough” says your tattoo, baby.
Indifferent body is liberated
Some dried rose is educated
You should have grown cold since
Why then, are you hurting through
and through, baby?
Mother of bravery, father of none
Sitting astray, your world has spun.
Dusty tables, stressed journals
What will the empty mug brew, baby?
You do you, but remain true, baby.