Notes to Myself

what if i could write notes to myself
i would probably still be deaf and blind to them

what if i could believe that my life has nothing to do with me
i would probably still be living just the same

what if i could fly
over the clouds
over peoples lives
i would probably still prefer to walk

what if i could name all my feelings
and catalogue them
in alphabetical order
i would probably still not talk about them to anyone

what if i could try the impossible
i would probably still not believe in its possibility

what if i could paint my insignificance
i would probably still start with a large canvas

what if i could wash away all those ugly sins
scrub hard and thorough
till no patches remained
i would probably still not be innocent

what if i could shout
loud enough to be heard
sure enough to be clear
i would probably still want to be pleasant

what if i could decide between right and wrong
i would probably still be writing notes to myself