Desire

I want what I don't want.
I don't want what I want.
I don't want to want at all.
But the wanting is there,
whispering within the walls,
or having a tantrum on the floor,
wailing its lack of something.
I see that other me clearly,
demanding, bleating and begging
for that which is not to be mine now.
It cries for justice, fairness, and rights
but with the same desperate
selfishness that leads to the lack
of justice, fairness and rights.
It is a necessary adversary,
to war with all my days,
and forge who I might be.