My triangle friend thinks I’m taking the wrong path.
With all of his pointed words,
he spins around arrows in three directions.

“Which should I go?” I ask, and he answers.

My sphere friend is a little more dimensional.
She thinks I’m not quite rounded enough.

“Let your heart be broad and your mind be layered.” That’s what she says.

My quarter friend doesn’t talk much.
He thinks he’s better than me because he’s worth more.
He’s probably right.

All I can really claim is what comes out of my head and my mouth.
Not what I make with my hands,
not one creation is apart of me.

Except, perhaps, when I make a baby one day.

Unless it physically comes out of me, it doesn’t belong to me.
It belongs to the Earth.
Everything that grows out from the center belongs to the Earth.

I just don’t want to hear bullshit about who I should be.
Maybe I don’t want to fix myself.
Maybe I do, but I don’t want to hear about it from you
everyday.

Just let me be.