Stubborn

Why do I push?

I refuse, without thought,

To move.

You request so little,

Yet to do what you ask,

I must shift,

And so it is

Impossible.

Why do I act like this?

I have no reason to live defensively.

You are kind and flexible.

Yet I see in checkerboard.

This or that.

Here or there.

Her or me.

There is a middle,

I must remind myself.

There are more than two sides.

There are more solutions,

Though my brain appears to break at the thought.

I force. 

I would rather stand firm than shift even a hair.

You are an elastic band.

Bending and conforming to the situation.

I just sit, rooted.

Trapped in my own conviction.

There is good in being stubborn.

This is not the good part.

This is the part that breaks.

I am already coated in imperfection.

I am blemished.

How many more times will I survive?

As strong as I may seem, there is always a breaking point.

How does a mountain learn to bend?

Painfully, it seems.