How do we ponder the process of
a thought, a simplistic drop,
collectively yearning to join
cognitive reflections of said evaporation.  

2gether they are stronger in there capacity
to carry the weight, that as singularly
Can not hold continuity.
But when thoughts  coalescence
into a force of nature,
it can move the unmovable.

Or as water formed in conflicting
interests. A singular cognitive word
Can conflict in reason, one can
evaporate in another’s reasoning.  
Then there is the frozen logic that
Can be cold in reasoning.
We can hold fluidic reflections
But some will always find away
To fall between the cracks

H2O is the thought that we must
Be one but have opinions that can
Change like the metaphors of water.
The same, but in diffrent stages
Of reasoning they can mean similar
Droplets of metaphysical meaning.
We are one droplet, but different
Same pool but cognitively similar

To those who’s voices enclose them in a tomb of closet silence.
Where we can look outward but breath
ever so deeply.

Yearning to clasp on to the words
of others but we sit static and hold our hands outward.

But realise that sometimes no matter
our yearning we grasp upon our own thoughts looking inward.

I’m me, I’m myself, I can look outward
but existentially I’ll delve inward
looking upon my own worth.

My realistic version of what
I’m to become.
My past may be scared,
deeply penetrated , never showing
the depth of my sorrow for I only smile.

Fragmented within my inner depths.
Waves may look placid.
But there are only fragmentation
symmetry of delusions.

We are all fractured, but never showing anything but perfection.
Even though we are just cracks
soothed out.

Decoded underneath softly cleaved decryptions of our showcase  of feelings.

With every bead of sweat,
know that every step makes
a difference on the path of another. M

That every bead of sweat is rehydration
of vocation that even though
the world feels dehydrated.

Every moment of hydration makes
us realise that our steps count.

And the weight of the world m,
never holds us down.
But let’s us reach greater heights
through our struggle.

We never see the rings degraded on the reflection of previous growth.

Hiding the reflection of woeful regression.

Where once was abundance.

Now leafs wilted and tired.

Clinging on the theft of reflection.

Well if you return to a tree that’s rotten inside and make a table.

It’s never going to hold up the fruits
of tomorrow.

Only spoil on the floor of tomorrow.

With regrets that will never bear the
Fruits of fruition. All will be seedless...

To those who’s voices enclose them in a tomb of closet silence.
Where we can look outward but breath
ever so deeply.

Yearning to clasp on to the words
of others but we sit static and hold our hands outward.

But realise that sometimes no matter
our yearning we grasp upon our own thoughts looking inward.

I’m me, I’m myself, I can look outward
but existentially I’ll delve inward
looking upon my own worth.

My realistic version of what
I’m to become.
My past may be scared,
deeply penetrated , never showing
the depth of my sorrow for I only smile.

Fragmented within my inner depths.
Waves may look placid.
But there are only fragmentation
symmetry of delusions.

We are all fractured, but never showing anything but perfection.
Even though we are just cracks
soothed out.

Decoded underneath softly cleaved decryptions of our showcase  of feelings.

Like a work horse,
My body feels worn.
I can’t turn the soil
Of life everyday..

I think I need to be euthanised..
Or at least hibernate
for the weekend.

Painkillers eaten like skittles..

Four varieties of woes..
My body the water,
The pills skimming
Across my Pain threshold..

Hidden disabilities,
a hide an seek of explanations.
You ill today.. sighs..
I’m Forever Sighing,
At the ignorance of others