Split pathways splayed on palms and face Each line runs according to its own race Deep, undefined or shifting aside Inescapable writings on the walls Nothing seems straightforward at all On reviewing in hindsight The circumstance of chance How much space do we have to play Was I supposed to be late Another carrier of an attitudinal barrier Loss of control often feels immeasurable Despite conflicts of character At times are we in charge of our own lives
and it's always about the timing or the circumstances it's always an "I'm busy" text message that fades into days of silence it's when you notice how he used to compliment your mind and now he only ever calls you beautiful when you're bare inbetween his sheets and you tell yourself he's just a boy this is what boy's do it will get better but "you're my girl" turns into "I don't think this is working" and you're crying again and you wonder why you keep having the same ending with different people
and you're wide awake in the middle of the night wishing he'd call and then he'll miss you enough to want you but never enough to stay and you worry you are so good at finding the wrong love you won't know how to recognize the right
this young universe vies for your attention the conspiring fates merely pushing us along as we are pawns in this ephemeral board game we don't win nor lose
instead we crawl our way to the finish line even if it's not our race to finish.
"we had moments, you know? but we no longer played by our rules. universe took over and we were merely stuck in a circumstance. it felt like getting caught up. in waves, i mean. you can't exactly control the waves though right? you can't control the ocean. you can't control what's not yours."