Echo

All habits

start with a thought

then they become something

that cannot be borrowed, hidden,

suppressed, or bought.

They begin as friends

just tagging along

then grow into melodies

stuck in our head

that we silently sing along.

They turn into an obsession

that we that cannot help

but to show.

Their final evolution is

become our identity,

joining our shadow.

Habits can

make or break,

they can give or take,

but habits cannot be faked.

You can transform them

only through effort and time,

making it possible to become

a renewed saint with a history of crime.

Breaking a habit

starts heavy, hard and slow.

It’s not the habit

but the comfort that makes

it hard to say no.

But when patience meets

persistence, and they agree

to both be an assistant,

like a seed with soil, sunlight, and water,

they will help each other grow.

Habits are who we are:

showing where we started

to where we’ve come so far.

On the surface they may

appear to be useless,

like strings and wood,

but when assembled correctly,

they create a guitar.

And they’ll play on repeat

day in and day out

all the while long,

until we decide

I no longer want this

I must move on.

When that time comes

the favorite broken record

becomes the saddest melody.

The cage almost seems cozier

than finally being set free.

But if we truly mean it,

we will awkwardly flap

and fall and flap some more

and continue to lie

telling ourselves, saying

“You got this”

until the new habit forms;

replacing the old one

allowing it to die.

And alas, we will begin to fly.