Correction

At the ripe age of thirty I finally learn something
When I make a mistake and feel the heat
It is best to make a simple correction
Instead of drinking a cup of rocket fuel and exploding into flames
It is not necessary

And I am being done a favor
I should thank the anxiety gods
For informing me when I go wrong
I am really happy about this
I don't know why it took me so long to understand

The essence of what I do
Is to distill what I am given
It almost sounds refined
But it isn't
It's a big mess

I wish I could blame someone else
Or maybe be someone else
When I'm enjoying myself I really don't mind
Being myself
When it's unpleasant I'd like to pass