A Reminder

I think I’ll set a reminder today, 

so that I can be reminded tomorrow 

and I’ll never have to remember again—  

—my wilted aloes by the balcony that mock me; 

their shriveled fingers pointing at my judgmental self. 

Self-righteous and callous, like my people, 

they droop in disappointment and disdain. 

—my crumpled clothes, overflowing with regret; 

locked behind flimsy plastic wardrobes. 

Never felt loved and cared for as I have, 

but still, they cling to my ignorant self. 

—my broken tea pot, unable to hold itself; 

wrecked beyond repair, my contemptuous self,  

waiting to be thrown against a wall  

with much intent and care. 

—my weary heart pumping without rest; 

keeping counts of my desires and mistakes. 

Always blamed for feelings not its own, 

yet compassionate to my inconsiderate self.