Pick it Up

Taking credit for my art
Would be like claiming control over my height
I just have it, so I do it
You see
The positive aspects, I brush aside
Give them over to chance, god, circumstance
The negative ones, though, they're all mine
I clutch onto them like an addict
My drugs
Obsessing over the parts of me I despise
Imagining control over their creation and demise

I cannot see my value today
I struggle to un-focus my eyes
To see me as a whole
Not just the parts that are broken
Hanging
Dragging
Scraping
Festering
As I try to run from them

If I would just pick them up
Accept them as they are
I could find a way to carry them on
To keep moving
To allow their added weight 
     to strengthen me
God help me

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