Caved in and drawn out,
I’m a believer of my own cuts.
I chase the rhythm where it deems,
No fault of my own.
I’m blessed to be disturbed by no other,
I wake to love and feel to breathe.
I become once more a chaser in the lie,
Un-doing the rest disastrously with happenstance.
To the other,
I’m slowly living out the trauma of my memories,
Unraveling like decay in the wind.
I need the end to begin,
Veering out of focus in time with the fault,
I tremble to keep steady with zero alliances.
Too much room to to breathe,
I’m thinking in circles and heeding the whispers just beyond my call.