Innattitude

In a way, it’s rather strange
You care about what’s innate.
Like wrestlers or judokas

Grappling for leverage, holds,
You look slightly comical.
What you’re after is a throw,

But you’ve been trained this is how
To get it—to get ahold
Of what’s innate, natural,

And hang on to it, or pry
Loose your opponent’s death grip
On some other innate trait,

Since you both seem quite convinced
That what’s innate can’t be changed.
And who would even try it?

Lean your weight on what’s innate,
You’re bound to gain advantage,
As grounded as Antaeus.

But gravity doesn’t lurk
Chained in the middle of Earth—
The weight of what’s innate shifts

Constantly. You can change it.
It will change, change you with it,
Innate’s lightweight rhetoric.