So I find myself here again reader
Having indulged in the burning of meaningful metaphors
Having decompressed a touch from the pains of the mirror
I'm once again a flux of self in the dark
Wondering in futility over all I can do nothing about

Goals, life, potential love, and the greater state of a country amongst a greater, if flawed, geopolitical river system
And everything about my identity that ****** me off

I'm going to try and let it bleed from my fingers onto my covers
So the mind can just be a mind and let me dream
And maybe the man who found those particular days so hard

Will find tomorrow a little easier