Willpower
I've made a determination: The resolve with which I try to force The shiftless bundle of emotional trauma I refer to as my fragile and trackless self Is wholly inadequate to the task of cobbling together Something resembling a spine or A will made of a stronger substance than chocolate pudding. The commitment with which I move forward Has been waylaid by the simple fact that The thing I've committed myself to follow and serve Seems to have left me behind somewhere On the road between the worse place I left And the better place I'm going. It always seems to be just over the next hill. Self-indulgence is easier than self-discipline. The immovable object stopped the irresistible force in its tracks. The tenacity of the will Has been swallowed in the malaise of lethargy. Giving up is easy and volition is so difficult. I'm trying my hardest to be kind, To treat people with compassion and dignity. So why can't I be kind to myself?