Baggage,
Of flaws,
Faults,
Or evils.
Which learned,
Or inherited traits,
Help me?
Which natures or nurturings,
Are rot within my heart,
Or soul?
That’s why I never claimed to be a hero,
Saviour,
Or messiah.
Just a cracked diamond,
In the forest rough.
Covered in moss,
Yet carbon,
For good or ill.
Baggage.
