I'm sick of advice
Especially when the giver is mine own
Like I have the right
Self righteously blindfold
Myself with selfish pride
Against what I find identifies
As a minor slight
An offense exemplified
Misanalysed regrettably
I recognize, apologize
Try to resolve my hollow spite
An amoral bind
I'm misunderstood
Or maybe I misunderstand
When I put my foot in my mouth
Instead of lend one a hand
Decide others woulds and shoulds
Without being put
Afoot in their reality
All my putdowns are true fallacies
The nerve or grounds, to serve around
My personal concerns
Is so impersonal
Shows no backbone or vertebra
That happens when this cloud
Of outcast self-doubt
Powerlessness
Is the foundation throughout
Structure becomes a house of cards
Shaking, swaying just waiting
That it is in fact safe
With shameless validating
My unstable ways
I didn't build them solitarily
But socially, culturally
Environmentally ill-conceived
But mindfully through readjustment
With beams and sheetrock
Maybe I'll remain upright
With others to lean on.
To Be Frank: 