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.