RETROSPECTIVE:
This is us. Yes me: and most importantly you, my friend, reading this poem; at this very moment. Do you ever feel like just flesh for the ground, or for some digestive tract to consume? Well, I think you might be missing an important part of your life. Well, I say missing, but I think you might be stowing it away. Away for another day when you have time, and strength and vigor. But vigor doesn't grow on branches, nor does it age like wine. No you have to really face yourself and admit that you are lying. And furthermore and the heaviest burden, is to face the vast, resulting expanse: those who thought they knew you, scatter to the wind when you're true to them for the very first time. It hurts. It does! But don't stall upon your wings getting coated by mere rime.