Frustrated Poem by Maria Schmitt

I am frustrated with myself
and my self-afflicted situation
my confusion
my revulsion
my decisions
make me shake my head and scream.
I chose love over reason
and reason over freedom
and now I'm left loveless, unreasonable, and chained.
It pains
me to know that my
passion has a will of its own and
that I am far too willing
to give away kisses - passionate kisses -
to whatever young suitor
may come along.
Undeserving, these fantasies,
and yet I flirt and tease
and once in awhile
I throw myself at them,
like a child throws
petals into the breeze.
Careless, witless, and free.
Oh so free...
I was but then independence kicked in.
My freedom to choose
gave me freedom to abuse
that which I call myself.
What is self?
In the mirror an hour or so ago
I gazed, empty tiles
around me could not
answer my silent question.
So I gazed, dazed,
at that which I call myself.
Oh, self, how silly you have been.
My dark side likes to win.
Sadly, I let it.
Pull yourself up, pull yourself out,
be who you were raised to be.
Me?
Perhaps.
I'll wait and see.
For now, I'll just be.