I live in an apartment
I eat every day
I got money in my wallet
But what do I really own?
My brain functions
My heart beats
My whole body grind
But what do I really own?
Is it my thoughts?
Is it my words?
Is it my feelings?
What do I really own?
When I strip all of it
When nothing else is left
There is love within me
A love I couldn’t really define
I see men’s weaknesses and yet I love them
I know nothing is permanent so I am grateful of now
I look inside me and I find myself “enough”
And yet not entirely enough unless I love
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