All this time,
I believed I had it.
I believed I was better.
Stronger. Smarter.
But when I look at myself,
my knees weaken at the chaos my mind scribbles.
There is a way out of this maze.
I become poetry, a clairvoyant,
able only to sense why I must escape
before the clock strikes twelve.
It will take hard work.
I need a plan.
It is possible.
Poetry guarantees that all I need
is to use my senses,
to put the pieces back together,
to find this one way out.
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 2:30 PM UTC
All this time,
I believed I had it.
I believed I was better.
Stronger. Smarter.
But when I look at myself,
my knees weaken at the chaos my mind scribbles.
There is a way out of this maze.
I become poetry, a clairvoyant,
able only to sense why I must escape
before the clock strikes twelve.
It will take hard work.
I need a plan.
It is possible.
Poetry guarantees that all I need
is to use my senses,
to put the pieces back together,
to find this one way out.
