Press

“Just go ahead and press that button.”

“What? Why?”

“Press delete on your overwrought rant.

Instead of that rant you should have written a paper,
Entered a contest, wrote a poem, learned to code,
Learned to skate figure-eights on rivers,
Learned the name of every bird
And everything free, everything airborne,
Everything light and happy,
Everything that flies.

That button- it’s right there- but you won’t press it,
Because then you might have to move on,
Find other interests, face your fears,
Face up to the times you were wrong
Though you’re so sure of what you write
So sure because you know you’re hurt.”

“Nothing will convince me, nothing.”
(Except the chance to never talk about it again,
the freedom disappearing)