I hate odd numbers, to be more exact I fear them
That is not to say it applies to every facet of my life
Three at the end of the day is my favorite number
It's just in every other circumstance that they seem to haunt me
Like my nightmares only occurring when my alarm is set odd
Something caused by one of my benign idiosyncracies
-Nonetheless, I'm faced with odd numbers when I sleep
When I awake
When another family member has chosen the grave as a resting place
When times seem to change unexpectedly
I'm anxious about many things
But all seem minuscule compared to those numbers that follow me
Unbreaking and ration
They belong; I do not