THIS POEM WON’T FIX YOU

This poem won’t fix you.

If that’s what you’re looking for, please don’t read this one.

It won’t hurt, but it sure won’t fill in all the holes you think you have in you. 

So if that’s what you’re looking for in a poem, put this one down and keep looking.

It won’t promise to turn question marks into periods,

And it may even have the inverse effect. 

But this one is good if you ask me.

It will ask you questions about your life,

Not like your aunt does, but like your dog does.

It won’t change how it feels about you if you answer, nor if you don't.

But it’ll still ask. 

What made you go looking for a fix anyways?

Who told you you needed a fix?

It wasn’t this poem,

But it looks like someone did. 

Well, nonetheless, this poem won’t do it. It would if it could. Trust me. 

But it can’t. 

So it won’t.

But what it will do is listen to you while you listen to it. 

It will breathe out when you breathe in,

Like a tree. 

And if you listen close, you may hear it speak

Something like

“Not fixes.

Not fixation.

Gifts, not products.”

But no, this poem won’t fix you. Neither would an essay. Neither would a book. 

It may be helpful, but they’re all designed to turn you back to your life,

To make you reconsider how it’s all moving.

Not to save you from it,

But to give you something in it.

And unless you can lay that down, you'll probably

Miss so much of what they're trying to tell you.

Don't say we didn't warn you.