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