I find that I’m good at
digging myself into pits of despair.
I dig until I reach anxiety
or insecurity or loneliness,
and fear tricks me into living there.
I am afraid of going deeper so I sit,
and then I make it my normal,
as if living surrounded by crumbling walls
inside my head
could ever be what you designed for me.
see, I forget about how deep you are.
for there are no depths of man
where you are not deeper still.