Lessons that’d keep coming throw me against rocks and stars
Vacuum the space of stories I cherished
the bibliography of another misunderstood wanderer

Fresh is today, yet dusty is mind’s wraparound
Begging the soul to hold on to the noose
to paint the portrait with wounds’ blood

Dissonance thrives
Yet roots are growing

Flurried, awaiting the washaway
from someone lovingly reaching out, understanding, acknowledging
giving nothing more but a smile of compassion

The dance awaits
for dissolution of sown death

No future will come for the waiting ones

I’ll sculpt all within and without that I can
I’ll keep on refusing to stop at the mask
I’ll strengthen what needs to become stronger
and tear down all which was never meant to be

In the end there’s only one direction