half-hearted sentiments sting the unwritten prose
bleeding through splayed fingers
and washing regret over a crimson doubt
repeatedly planted through pockets of history
upending a future perfected in a lifeless state

the primal instinct to cast blame
to point the finger back at the older self
reprimanding the absence of wisdom
too afraid to acknowledge where confidence
could have compromised kinetic fear

advancing the loaded uncertainty
baptized in the wake of youth
and slipping into adulthood
where fear unmasks its wonder
pressure breaks the safety of character

searching through peripheral vision
to a glory fueled by blinded ambition
the right call birthed out of the sense of where
the old identity excused from the frustration
lurking in the crevices of the now