Winding fingers,
Weave the thread,
That wrap me so comfortably in my fears,
Embracing.
Mould my mind,
Shamelessly encrypting my thoughts, Through and through.
Grown to shapen my impersonality,
Both for my lack there of,
And my tenancy for the impersonal.
Yet how,
Should be such a bond to my pains,
An Introspective perfection,
Or am I?
Or is that just my guise,
Impersonality guide my imperfection,
Interspective shapes my imperception.
Impossibilities in my inevitabilities.
I am.
Imperfection.
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
Winding fingers,
Weave the thread,
That wrap me so comfortably in my fears,
Embracing.
Mould my mind,
Shamelessly encrypting my thoughts, Through and through.
Grown to shapen my impersonality,
Both for my lack there of,
And my tenancy for the impersonal.
Yet how,
Should be such a bond to my pains,
An Introspective perfection,
Or am I?
Or is that just my guise,
Impersonality guide my imperfection,
Interspective shapes my imperception.
Impossibilities in my inevitabilities.
I am.
Imperfection.