Where does the throws of
                        me start,
I'm an integrated silhouette
among the many shades
that walk in the light.

I'm not a vertical
                        abomination,
standing on my own two legs
before I began the humiliation
of crawling in this life...

I gaze upon the  gritty
                                reflections
of what is dead but lights up
the darkness above my eyelids..

Where does the throws of
                        me start,
Is there a purpose to my
existence am I just a flicker..

Waiting to eventually dim out..

The weeds must be
                         purged,
for they smother the
                        potential
to let  flowers grow.

For without it,
        the earth suffocates,
And eventually even flowers
              will lose their petals.

We each have found
                     that hole,
that keeps us under our own
           perspective of life.

Till that one who grabs
            that handle,
and digs for you.
    digging deeper, wider.


On the precipice of falling
into this void of there making,
              they stare deeply.
Looking at him asking.  
                                
          "Why,

"What is a hole, if its sides
                         are not vertical.

Looking perplexed at the words
                of this stranger...

"Not every hole has to be yours,
            "But when we work together,
"We create the steps to walk upon.

"You have to dig deep to find the way out,

Were all have our own holes,
               sometimes burying us deep.
But when a voice of another speaks of
                                         there moments,
and how they fell deeper.
It only takes those steps of thought
               to eventually realize
that not ever hole buries us.

But we can eventually step out.

I saw eternity for that
                           moment
A singularity of reflection.

Hearing the breeze,
                I heard there voices
whispering,
       don't let go daddy...

But they were a mirage
               of my subconscious.
I was a bird with no wing
                          for which to fly.

But in that moment I wanted
                        to live, to breath
A step had been taken
         regret solidified on my features

Sometimes we wish to take that
                                  faithful step.
But sometime we need to
                                  step back..

Realize that even though now
                               is anguish,
that another day dawns
                   and life's petals fall.

We need not take that moment
                             into the breeze.
Let our contemplations
             mould our reflection,.

And realize that step isn't worth it.

Collect me in moments,
          and then play a slide show  
on tattered white sheets.

Within the creases you'll find
          all that was hidden,
collected out of perceptions view.

I'm more that what is seen,
      in the ruffles you'll
                                  see the true me...