I MOOOAAN! Weeeeeeeeee!

I’m done trying.

I’ve tried all my life.

I’ve tried being

“good girl”,

“professional”,

If you don’t find me sexy,
then you’re not in my sand.
Warm water, pink beaches.
I’m hypnotic land.

If you don’t think I’m good,
then you don’t know me well.

I love wholly and deeply
in each eudaimonic cell.

And if I’m not professional,
well, that just might be true.
You be professional
and I’ll learn from you.

 

I’m a good learner.
I know how to study.
Somehow I got into
a great college, buddy.

 

I lived in the Beehive State and
learned how to drone.
I learned how to clone,
and I learned how to moan.

 

Not the loud moanin’ groanin’,
but the silent inner plea.
“I’m simply not good enough.
Why am I me?”

 

“Please make me something good!
Please set me free
from sadness, depression, comparison…
Free
of badness, of shamefulness,
of Sin.
Free of me!”

 

I’m done trying
to be a better version of me.
I’m done crying, silent.
Pleading,
“Set me free!”

 

I’m not moaning silent anymore.

I’M

MOOOAANING!

“Weeeeeeeeee!”

 

I’m moaning
from deeeeep in my
Belly.

 

A wild, running filly.

Hair that’s free and unruly.

Ignoring looks that are steely.

Without a care, being wiley.

 

I’m MOOOAANING daily.

I’m MOOOAANING solely.

ME!

Full of soul.I MOOOAAN!

I’m done trying.

I

simply

am.

 

I am moaning
at the moon,
at the sun,
at the stars,
at the ocean.

Aroura Borealis!

I MOOOAAN,
secus
I moan.