I have this fear of push and shove.

It’s muddy clear. These things are of?

Of yesteryear a need for love.

Did I get too much or not enough?

Am I worthy now? Can I be that tough?

Do I face it now or run away?

I don’t care who says what or what they say.

We live to fight another day.

That means me, and that’s ok…

It’s more or less what gets us through.

Not what we say, but what we do.

So enlightened now? No, nothing new.

I see a lot, and that means you.