One could might hypothesize That the tears would have Drained more than The veins drawing out Of the confines of the muscle Pumping sweltering anger On such a transportation Of creating a new home Out of one recognized for three years.
The stacks upon stacks Of emotional drainage After the physical had worn out From problem after inconvenience After incompetency. A departure I wrote an outline for Before I stood at the border Of goodbyes, I quickly threw out.
The itch and discomfort, The aching and drainage The constant questions in my mind Throughout the entire time Divorced me from the clouds That I foresaw above us Hugging goodbyes. The storm was in the lies That made me hurt To see such discomfort in your eyes.
Hereβs to the stormβs dispersion, No good deed can split the coming tidal wave.