everytime a new piece of me is found after much digging
i grieve for all the forms i simply cannot be.

for the almost boy who thought he could be anything,
the harsher truth is found in relinquishing infinites.

i am but a sum of pieces, moving around, evolving,
yet also the difference of all that doesnt make me.

my ***** hands which loathe doors that must stay locked,
they too shall never know peace, shall always hold grief.