I’ve gladly accepted everything I did not deserve.

Never knowning how to respond, I would willingly expect more.

The only fake thing about me is my response.

Quick and passive, with a hint of proper grammar.

So I walk between  the know and the how,

Torn by the fact that exposing myself places the ever diligent finger on the reset button.

I do not know what real connectedness looks like,

too much of my life is fragmented, yet overflowing with mercy.

So again I accept what I do not deserve,

What I cannot distinguish,

and the fact that  I am a complex part of a community just learning how to be.