And Sometimes We Falter
willpower
is something i crave.
it is the idol
i cannot tame,
the god that is too
volatile
to worship.
my will and i
are locked
in a battle
of wits:
will it
rescue me
from the pit
of my own bad habits,
or will i push it down
in favor of my own
selfish, short-lived desires?
my willpower may be ironclad,
but it is as much a prison
as it is a suit of armor.
which of us will prevail?
me,
or the me i should be?
i should be
stronger
as we all strive to be,
a tool of my will,
invincible in its hands.
and yet,
i do not crave immunity,
content to struggle against myself,
caught between immortality and death,
it is an easy choice
made impossible
by the mechanizations of my own mind.
which of us will prevail?
perhaps we will both win,
a harmonious victory,
lifted by our outstretched arms
gravity no longer tethering us to the ground.
or perhaps,
we will both lose,
lost in the great chasm
of in-betweens
and halfhearted promises
of change:
this will be the last time.