Strands of hair down the drain
Passive aggression yet active complacency
Boil it down to numbers
Quantify the confusion and the
Sounds of the scare underneath my pillow
Magnified by the very thoughts I choose to fabricate
Lucid yet absent
I am the maker of my own fate yet I cannot bear the thought of control
Like sifting through shades of denim
A superficial choice with consequences of turmoil
Instead watch the strands of hair congeal
And clog the drain