Failing Forward

The original title for this unfinished poem is "The Intimidator". I forgot when I first wrote this anyway and what direction I thought it was going? BUT that aside, I can surmise (if knowing my own thoughts, which I normally don't >.>) that it's referring to...well, I'll let you romanticize that :D

I make no progress
for I have failed to fail

What can I progress towards
when the only adversity I face

Is my own fear of failing?

How can I face [myself] knowing that
failure isn't a 'natural' component
in living but a necessity for growth?

When is growth and progress actually
coincidal? We are taught that growth and
progress are rather similar

But what if it isn't?

What is a natural progression
that we assume Time leads us towards?
[Why is the assumption that a natural
progression occurs over time?]
*It can lead us nowhere except for where
our actions consequently undertakes.
Or, I shall self-correct –un
undertakes. So much of our banal actions
receive no [immediate/harsh/visible] consequence

And…rather if the consequence is 'small'
Considered 'un'consequential at all

The End

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