Bear with me for a few minutes or throughout majority of the poem.
There’s some writers block with me.
Yet there’s a need deeper than my subconscious to write about you. A wholesome want that needs not be subliminal.

Each word, each syllable drips baring truth.
No seduction, no romance or any other double entendre.
It’s just a need to write, not for you but to write and it happens that you are the subject.

Growth comes with its formality.
Change opens our eyes to reality.
And the whole process either makes or breaks our mentality.
Not really sure whether you’re afloat or being pulled down by gravity.
That’s just the whole nature of being an entity.

Empty, sometimes growth leads to that.
Hollow, a formidable pit that keeps getting deeper.
It drags you but then again what can be done?
You’re just a life seeker.
Trying to get more, to feel more just without the ruckus of pain.

A turmoil,
You roll and roll and spin and wonder why am I moving so much, so fast?
It’s a process.
Never mind feeling confusion.
It’s just an illusion.
Or a way of getting your mind to really look at things.

I hope I didn’t lose you.
Because often in search of truth we get lost.
And no I am no truth but I’ll bring you honesty.

Consequences. No more, no less than the word guilt. We live in it, sometimes take pleasure in it. But primarily grow because that is it’s end game. Growth.

Self awareness.
Look in the mirror and appreciate, not what is outside or inside but what is you. Because growth is that, appreciation of self.

Incomplete. A feeling so deafening, so loud and corrupt. A feeling that can just be so abrupt to your conscious.
And so for that be cautious.

The mind requires freedom and love. Love from yourself and freedom from your negative self.
Only then can you truly feel growth.
And only then can you see yourself past the pain and tribulations.

This poem is not done, but it is complete.