I wanted to learn.
But things I learned were shattered by feelings.
Knowledge was tested by joy and pain,
two teachers with new ideas, with new knowledge.
Knowledge came into me and fought its own.
I learned and unlearned the lessons of living,
admitting it was all true, though all in conflict.
I knew less and less the more I learned.
Knowledge was a shattered picture,
and none of the pieces went together,
a puzzle of oddly shaped parts
and no answers at the edges.
Knowledge was plural and unsympathetic to its parts.
I stared at the pieces, all crying for validation
and could do no more than admit their existence.
I couldn't discard or embrace one over the other.
I knew nothing singular.
I had no title or definition for all the pieces that made me.
I lived in a constant struggle for finality, for definition,
for one meaning.
But I was many,
and torn to pieces as I learned each one.