No, I gave up.
Concept that I cant swallow
Because it swallows me.
Like the time I'd ask for
Things and the answer was
To think older.

Now, I still think the same.
A child who cant fend for themselves,
or
Speak in manner,
or
Right
or
Securely attached to the
Rope of ideas and hopes.

When the music
Is over and the repeating
Screeching sound of
The needle on the record I
Ask,
"Selfish to ask
for it to stop?"

Thorns are stuck onto
My foot as I walk.
And I am a forest
and I am the fire.

Lack of oxygen on a Tuesday afternoon, still forest burns.