The Center

He said, 'Just find your center.'

Like it was lost, a dropped key.

When I was talking about the rent,

how the numbers wouldn't agree.

My center? Was it hiding

under a stack of bills, maybe?

Or had it gone to work three jobs,

just to keep my landlord happy?

'Breathe through it,' he advised,

as if air could pay a fee.

Some centers are expensive,

or simply aren't for me.

I try to breathe, I try to focus,

but my core feels thin and worn.

This center of mine, it's broken,

and cannot be reborn.