“Strive to be your best authentic self,” they say. All encompassing emotions with no depth, Capitulating to demons hiding in other dimensions, My environment in which I cannot thrive. Where I’m against every tree, bee, and, most of all, me. “How do I be my authentic self When it seems like a fantasy world Where I’m constantly being corrupted By Master Chaos himself?” I ask. Gotta work with the bees, They’re here too. Trust they’ll be copacetic, But eventually get stung. Learn a balance. Look for the grey. Stop forcing things, And work with the flow. Appreciate the bees, But be wary of angering them. Be grateful for the trees, But be wary of the forest fire. And more than anything else, Know thyself: Sunny flowers and violent flames Because we’re all pieces of a beautiful puzzle, And we must find where we belong.