Not broken, just stirred and shaken,
twisted, bent in shapes and formed
to what was said, to conform,
my finality spelled in the dark
behind rooms stained in shades
of vague dreams, not mine perhaps.
And then to see, this spark
to light a torch, the constant traps
laid out with time,
not broken, just stirred and shaken.
September 22, 2019
“We die a little every day and by degrees we’re reborn into different men, older men in the same clothes, with the same scars.”
― Mark Lawrence, King of Thorns