I stood, with back arched, once,
waiting for pride to find my side,
I tied the knots inside of my stomach into hope,
I was still sinking, then,
but could not recognise the inertia, for what it was,
or which signpost heading it carried.

I thought I could be
whatever the world entrusted my hand to,
I thought I could calm these sporadic weaknesses.
I spent time thinking everything over.
or, wasted time. I'm not sure-
I never reached any reliable verdict.
still,
the world turned and turns.
things hardly change.
or, at least, seem to consistently stay the same.
and the thoughts that keep me in constant check,
foliage on my branches,
weight on my ankles,
ice under my tread.

Someday, I'll figure out what I am,
what I should probably do,
how to live
like I mean it,
like I'm not planning to die
or live, trying.