Tangles

I am combing through my selfishness
With an afro pick,
a wide-toothed comb,
weaving seamlessly through
the largest of knots, yet
passing over the tiniest tangles,
in hopes they'll go unnoticed,
by everyone but me.

At the end of the day,
when I am worn and weary
from a day of thinking too much
and not loving enough,
the knots will still be there,
tiny, tiny reminders
of how messy
my messiness
is.