Knots

People are like knots in an unraveled roll of twine.
The more you pull, the tighter the knot gets.
The more you try to draw them to you,
The tighter withing themselves they become.
A big, messy, frustrating knot.

People are like the knots on a crochet tablecloth.
The more you marvel at the pattern, the more complicated they seem.
The more you try to figure them out,
The less it feels like you're making progress.
Knots within knots, complicated within themselves.

People are like the knots on a child's shoelace.
The more you mock the immaturity in them, the more charmed you are.
The more you try to "fix" it,
The less unique it becomes.
Insecure and unsure, yet far from insipid.

People are like the knots in my hair.
The more I yank at them to come loose, the more in pain I am.
The more I try to force them to smoothen out,
The less accepting I am of myself.
 Tightly bound, difficult, but rooted in reality.

Then again, is my reality just another twisted knot?