Contemplative, but not
reversing your unkind
direction, back into
salvation's representation.

You wither, while you
are nourished from rain,
stamping your retreat
in countless footprints.

Will you ever rephrase
how you've demonstrated
your desire to seal
all that's been revealed?

You see in one direction,
noticing a glimmer, in vanity.
You lock your words
upon deceit's grave comfort.
You've smelled the iron
coming from blooming wounds,

but nothing keeps you
from surrendering this disguise.

Nothing keeps you
from embracing a falsehood.
In the other direction,
you've walked a long line,

but has it distracted you
from where you never shine?

Being repulsed,
vowing words of silver,
to be sculpted
in different ways,

but nothing keeps you
from cornering your uncertainty.

No one else can breathe
for you, while you are
bleeding before everyone.