Not really my plans.

All my plans, really not mine,
or are they?

As soon as they come by,
I see why I shouldn’t force any.
A dog with a bone,
now water that fits into any.

All the plans made, not really mine,
or are they?

All this overthinking,
all this wanting the best,
not really understanding the best thing to be is, just me, just live,
and just move with intention with little things.
Just to see how big things, fall into place.

Calm, is the only mode that I have existed in, since I last forgot about my plans.
Especially, when they are not really mine.