Self-Talk

The frumpy lady in her nightgown

And cow horns on her head

Inspired strength and fortitude

Upon herself

As if plastering walls

Or shoring up foundations

With the delicacy of a rhino

Self-talk became a blur

Of mantric phrases gone senseless

Beginning with “You will”

And the ever present “You are”

Until cooked together for hours

Into a sticky tar-like substance

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Silence, peace, joy, bliss even

Are welcomed here, whenever they arrive