"agreeance" poems - Hello Poetry

crashing when you're gone i can't land alright nothing holding me back gravity pushes me in agreeance good riddance i was never apart of the blueprint there wasn't a plan space out and decide to implode your immaturity exceeds normalcy crushed

0

Jun 13, 2021

Jun 13, 2021 at 8:13 PM UTC

marksoltero

martyr in the first degree

crashing when you're gone i can't land alright nothing holding me back gravity pushes me in agreeance good riddance i was never apart of the blueprint there wasn't a plan space out and decide to implode your immaturity exceeds normalcy crushed

11

On a spring day, Emelia soared through the field, like a baby robin learning to fly, running in diagonals with her hands brushing against every shrub and leaf she saw. Mud drenched pink overalls and a bright blonde bowl cut. She ran like a bumble bee on a mission to pick the freshest, prettiest flower. Stepping over bugs and playing tag with chipmunks, she giggled uncontrollably and was a friend to all that walked nature's green carpet, tripping over wild, wispy grasses. She looks up with innocent eyes, beaming like two sunflowers, "We have to share," she announced to the big tree that resembled Grandmother Willow. She had just seen Pocahontas for the first time and wanted nothing more than to become a color of the wind. The wind blew the leaves in a nodding fashion, showing agreeance to the young sprites statement. She whipped and whirled her arms toward the sun as it danced on her skin through the branches of her friends. "I want to do this forever," she squealed. So, she did. 20 years later, the girl grew But with a dimmer light Weaker legs And a hole in her chest. On a cold night, Emelia staggered through the barren field, fueled by a magic dust that made her feel like a crashing plane Running in diagonals with her hands Brushing against her watery eyes, keeping them from flooding. Mud drenched ripped jeans and a long, shaggy haircut mirroring the bark on the trees. She ran like she was being chased by a vicious monster trying to find the safest space for her to vent after feeling her brain bleed from her nose and heart deflate in its cage. Stumbling over broken bottles and playing tag with her inner demons, she was a slave to all that walked nature's casket, tripping over roots and graves, smashing against a tree. She looks up with innocent eyes, welling with painful tears, "We have to share," she whispered to the big tree that resembled Grandmother Willow. She felt an unbearable pain that no one should live with and wanted nothing more than to be numb. The wind stopped in it tracks, the leaves stagnant on their branches, showing heart wrenching dismay to the old skeleton's statement. She sobbed and heaved with her arms wrapped tight to her torso as her skin danced with her shuttering bones and tightening muscles. "I don't want to do this forever," she helplessly breathed. But, she did.

0

Jan 2, 2019

Jan 2, 2019 at 12:39 PM UTC

ers-1

Girlhood

On a spring day, Emelia soared through the field, like a baby robin learning to fly, running in diagonals with her hands brushing against every shrub and leaf she saw. Mud drenched pink overalls and a bright blonde bowl cut. She ran like a bumble bee on a mission to pick the freshest, prettiest flower. Stepping over bugs and playing tag with chipmunks, she giggled uncontrollably and was a friend to all that walked nature's green carpet, tripping over wild, wispy grasses. She looks up with innocent eyes, beaming like two sunflowers, "We have to share," she announced to the big tree that resembled Grandmother Willow. She had just seen Pocahontas for the first time and wanted nothing more than to become a color of the wind. The wind blew the leaves in a nodding fashion, showing agreeance to the young sprites statement. She whipped and whirled her arms toward the sun as it danced on her skin through the branches of her friends. "I want to do this forever," she squealed. So, she did. 20 years later, the girl grew But with a dimmer light Weaker legs And a hole in her chest. On a cold night, Emelia staggered through the barren field, fueled by a magic dust that made her feel like a crashing plane Running in diagonals with her hands Brushing against her watery eyes, keeping them from flooding. Mud drenched ripped jeans and a long, shaggy haircut mirroring the bark on the trees. She ran like she was being chased by a vicious monster trying to find the safest space for her to vent after feeling her brain bleed from her nose and heart deflate in its cage. Stumbling over broken bottles and playing tag with her inner demons, she was a slave to all that walked nature's casket, tripping over roots and graves, smashing against a tree. She looks up with innocent eyes, welling with painful tears, "We have to share," she whispered to the big tree that resembled Grandmother Willow. She felt an unbearable pain that no one should live with and wanted nothing more than to be numb. The wind stopped in it tracks, the leaves stagnant on their branches, showing heart wrenching dismay to the old skeleton's statement. She sobbed and heaved with her arms wrapped tight to her torso as her skin danced with her shuttering bones and tightening muscles. "I don't want to do this forever," she helplessly breathed. But, she did.

39

Receiving and reflecting on revolting reassurances. You reason with me "I'm right", ranting on about your righteous wrongs. Ruefully agreeing to you, an overrated relationship rescued by agreeance.

0

Feb 2, 2015

Feb 2, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC

sophiehartl

Rumble

Receiving and reflecting on revolting reassurances. You reason with me "I'm right", ranting on about your righteous wrongs. Ruefully agreeing to you, an overrated relationship rescued by agreeance.

9

I still remember those words we spoke Many years ago in the middle of the dark Through the airwaves and telephone lines There was scotch whiskey involved But I still recall Your agreeance and mine A just in case superstition for our future And I never thought That you would ever whisper delicate things in my ear Or teach me about the universe in my palms I thought for sure we'd both forget And carry on But now there are a few days out of the year Where I melt into your body The biggest secret I can keep Tell me that we can't anymore But we both lack that particular trait Will power gone out the door Faster than my clothes hit the floor Tongues lips hands legs laced It's all very ****** exciting exactly what we need But so ****** up So I keep you off of my mind as best as I can Despite reminders memories sensory triggers Luckily none of the smell of you lingers I'm able, albeit briefly, to forget

0

Sep 30, 2013

Sep 30, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC

farah-hizoune

explicit/underground

I still remember those words we spoke Many years ago in the middle of the dark Through the airwaves and telephone lines There was scotch whiskey involved But I still recall Your agreeance and mine A just in case superstition for our future And I never thought That you would ever whisper delicate things in my ear Or teach me about the universe in my palms I thought for sure we'd both forget And carry on But now there are a few days out of the year Where I melt into your body The biggest secret I can keep Tell me that we can't anymore But we both lack that particular trait Will power gone out the door Faster than my clothes hit the floor Tongues lips hands legs laced It's all very ****** exciting exactly what we need But so ****** up So I keep you off of my mind as best as I can Despite reminders memories sensory triggers Luckily none of the smell of you lingers I'm able, albeit briefly, to forget

40

I'm Tired, Mother April 9, 2018 | Poet_Anonymous Sometimes it gets hard to breathe Because my chest is filled With the guilt and The regret of the Unwanted pain I've Caused you. We get in arguments, Although not either of us Try to show A little empathy For the other. I've been a stubborn ***** And unfortuenly I know that I have. But as much as it seems That I don't care I do. But I just don't know How to show you. You tell me ways To show That I care And I try I really do But it seems that every Time I do try I ***** up and we Argue once more. Mother, It gets hard, To follow in your Footsteps Because every footstep of yours Is a footstep of shadows and agony for me, With my mind and heart saying In agreeance "I don't want this." It gets hard Because although I know You as my role model As my idol I also know That I will never Be anything more Than a faint echo Of the amazing woman you are. It gets hard To talk to you Becasuse as much as I try You never seem to understand And you always say That you've been through it before But one flaw in that statement is Dear Mother Is that you may have been Through the same struggles as mine But you've never been through It as me. Try as you might, But you will never be able to comprehend these Thoughts running a wild in My head It gets hard mother To paste a smile on my procaine face when we meet someone new As they are always commending how you And Sister look alike They rarely ever look at me And say how Similar you and I look It gets hard, Mother Because when people are Comparing you and Sister Or contrasting you and I I am breaking in the background And it gets hard to accept that I don't have anyone, anymore That people can compare me too. It gets hard, Mother When I tell people my history I tell the brave people Who ask if Stepfather is Father And when I say no, Then they ask where Father is And all I can say is "I don't know." But the thing that breaks me the most Is when, after I say that, that they Look down, with pity on their face They say their sorry But I can tell that they aren't But I dismiss it making sure I don't show what I really feel Because in actuality I am crying inside I always led pride and stubbornness show When all I want to do is weep What I have been holding in for so long. I know that I am acting vain That there are people out there Who have it worse than I But it gets hard, Mother To square my shoulders and stand up straight When I'd much rather roll into a ball In the hideous corners of an inky black room I really get tired, Mother, Of pretending to be someone I'm not I'm just tired, Mother, I really am.

0

Aug 15, 2018

Aug 15, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC

paintedsorrows

I'm Tired, Mother

I'm Tired, Mother April 9, 2018 | Poet_Anonymous Sometimes it gets hard to breathe Because my chest is filled With the guilt and The regret of the Unwanted pain I've Caused you. We get in arguments, Although not either of us Try to show A little empathy For the other. I've been a stubborn ***** And unfortuenly I know that I have. But as much as it seems That I don't care I do. But I just don't know How to show you. You tell me ways To show That I care And I try I really do But it seems that every Time I do try I ***** up and we Argue once more. Mother, It gets hard, To follow in your Footsteps Because every footstep of yours Is a footstep of shadows and agony for me, With my mind and heart saying In agreeance "I don't want this." It gets hard Because although I know You as my role model As my idol I also know That I will never Be anything more Than a faint echo Of the amazing woman you are. It gets hard To talk to you Becasuse as much as I try You never seem to understand And you always say That you've been through it before But one flaw in that statement is Dear Mother Is that you may have been Through the same struggles as mine But you've never been through It as me. Try as you might, But you will never be able to comprehend these Thoughts running a wild in My head It gets hard mother To paste a smile on my procaine face when we meet someone new As they are always commending how you And Sister look alike They rarely ever look at me And say how Similar you and I look It gets hard, Mother Because when people are Comparing you and Sister Or contrasting you and I I am breaking in the background And it gets hard to accept that I don't have anyone, anymore That people can compare me too. It gets hard, Mother When I tell people my history I tell the brave people Who ask if Stepfather is Father And when I say no, Then they ask where Father is And all I can say is "I don't know." But the thing that breaks me the most Is when, after I say that, that they Look down, with pity on their face They say their sorry But I can tell that they aren't But I dismiss it making sure I don't show what I really feel Because in actuality I am crying inside I always led pride and stubbornness show When all I want to do is weep What I have been holding in for so long. I know that I am acting vain That there are people out there Who have it worse than I But it gets hard, Mother To square my shoulders and stand up straight When I'd much rather roll into a ball In the hideous corners of an inky black room I really get tired, Mother, Of pretending to be someone I'm not I'm just tired, Mother, I really am.

113

It’s all Relative The animals The plants The people Life.. in its entirety Everything that ever is or was Is relative to your perspective to your experiences to your actions your thoughts your point of view No two people will ever see eye to eye Because one body cannot occupy the same space As another at the same instance We may be able to replicate one’s perspective And empathize to the point of agreeance and compromise But unless you can turn back time To relive someone else’s life You can never see eye to eye We can share experience Whether it be through lessons Or simply experienced simultaneously Observed at this instance and scale We can agree that this is eye to eye But when compiled with all other experiences The interpretations change Prerequisite knowledge needed To process said experience will always be Different, either through differing lessons Or different perceptions Even these small discrepancies, overtime, Create major contrast between two perspectives When we study masses of population We see patterns in beliefs and opinions This is a simple byproduct of the aforementioned --Sharing of experiences-- Many of the conflicts that arise in society Can boil down to the simple system Of good and evil When you allow two options posed On a mass of people, inevitably A portion will choose option A A portion will choose option B, And a portion will remain undecided Each option posed is both good and evil But the portion that chooses their respective option Believe it to be good and the opposition to be evil This decision is directly relative To the perspective of the individual The conclusion of good vs evil Can be shared, though the reasoning That led to said conclusion will have differences The experiences that offer similar conclusion May and often are similar and even sometimes Appear to be identical Most behavior, when directed toward Another form of life, can be labeled Good or evil When boiled down to the Black and white.. It will either be One or the other

0

Sep 5, 2016

Sep 5, 2016 at 10:40 PM UTC

charles-e-wellington

It's All Relative

It’s all Relative The animals The plants The people Life.. in its entirety Everything that ever is or was Is relative to your perspective to your experiences to your actions your thoughts your point of view No two people will ever see eye to eye Because one body cannot occupy the same space As another at the same instance We may be able to replicate one’s perspective And empathize to the point of agreeance and compromise But unless you can turn back time To relive someone else’s life You can never see eye to eye We can share experience Whether it be through lessons Or simply experienced simultaneously Observed at this instance and scale We can agree that this is eye to eye But when compiled with all other experiences The interpretations change Prerequisite knowledge needed To process said experience will always be Different, either through differing lessons Or different perceptions Even these small discrepancies, overtime, Create major contrast between two perspectives When we study masses of population We see patterns in beliefs and opinions This is a simple byproduct of the aforementioned --Sharing of experiences-- Many of the conflicts that arise in society Can boil down to the simple system Of good and evil When you allow two options posed On a mass of people, inevitably A portion will choose option A A portion will choose option B, And a portion will remain undecided Each option posed is both good and evil But the portion that chooses their respective option Believe it to be good and the opposition to be evil This decision is directly relative To the perspective of the individual The conclusion of good vs evil Can be shared, though the reasoning That led to said conclusion will have differences The experiences that offer similar conclusion May and often are similar and even sometimes Appear to be identical Most behavior, when directed toward Another form of life, can be labeled Good or evil When boiled down to the Black and white.. It will either be One or the other

62

Moonlighting this Dreamscape, the Eye that gleans panned... indelibly placed as to overcome, meanings unmoved till they mean. For the sake of: here to here... a head shakes in fluid agreeance. As if to understand stars cannot pepper what they've issued from.

0

Feb 2, 2015

Feb 2, 2015 at 1:12 AM UTC

Onoma

Moonlighting this Dreamscape

Moonlighting this Dreamscape, the Eye that gleans panned... indelibly placed as to overcome, meanings unmoved till they mean. For the sake of: here to here... a head shakes in fluid agreeance. As if to understand stars cannot pepper what they've issued from.

9

I said this would not happen again I told myself I would not let it I said I was deserving I said nothing less of a princess But still I allow him to push me around I allow him to make me feel small I allow him to say the things he wants because They’re just words They’re just jokes They’re meant to be funny They’re not met to be taken seriously But I guess The fat on my stomach told me he is not wrong The cellulite in my thighs nodded with his words The hair on my face agreed with every word he spoke The slab of fat on my arm swung in agreeance I found myself deciding my self-worth on How many times he said I was beautiful How many times he said he loved me How many times he let go of my hand when people approached him How many times he cared to open any door for me I said I had changed I said I was better I said I love me But You broke me You left behind a person I don't recognize You left me Back to square one

0

May 6, 2019

May 6, 2019 at 2:43 AM UTC

Mariana02

I will get better

I said this would not happen again I told myself I would not let it I said I was deserving I said nothing less of a princess But still I allow him to push me around I allow him to make me feel small I allow him to say the things he wants because They’re just words They’re just jokes They’re meant to be funny They’re not met to be taken seriously But I guess The fat on my stomach told me he is not wrong The cellulite in my thighs nodded with his words The hair on my face agreed with every word he spoke The slab of fat on my arm swung in agreeance I found myself deciding my self-worth on How many times he said I was beautiful How many times he said he loved me How many times he let go of my hand when people approached him How many times he cared to open any door for me I said I had changed I said I was better I said I love me But You broke me You left behind a person I don't recognize You left me Back to square one

30

"Dedication of a particular word by a different manner" "Draft" A volume of traffic is controlled by a traffic person as like here in our writing world Draft is that person who control our work by saving a particular thing in a proper way. Draft is that word which tick yours mind with a new ideal thought on everytime, Draft is a piece of text ,known for a particular work, which be saved incomplete without completing it till the next time..... Draft is something that calculate work in a different manner of time... A Person can continue the work with a fresher thoughts & can create a new idea to maintain it with large scales of words.... Draft of a letter is a roof of words and leaves of paper planted with different ways of thoughts!!... Draft is only made when there is work to flip up with a new ideas & scripts lift down with the words weight in the reality of scene!..... Draft is a friend of mine with a Receiving and reflecting revolution way of thinking. Draft You are the reason behind me "I'm right", or " I'm wrong" grating me about your righteous way of correction agreeing to you, An rated words to a rescued agreeance. -Chirayu

0

Jan 23, 2016

Jan 23, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC

chirayuwriter

Draft

"Dedication of a particular word by a different manner" "Draft" A volume of traffic is controlled by a traffic person as like here in our writing world Draft is that person who control our work by saving a particular thing in a proper way. Draft is that word which tick yours mind with a new ideal thought on everytime, Draft is a piece of text ,known for a particular work, which be saved incomplete without completing it till the next time..... Draft is something that calculate work in a different manner of time... A Person can continue the work with a fresher thoughts & can create a new idea to maintain it with large scales of words.... Draft of a letter is a roof of words and leaves of paper planted with different ways of thoughts!!... Draft is only made when there is work to flip up with a new ideas & scripts lift down with the words weight in the reality of scene!..... Draft is a friend of mine with a Receiving and reflecting revolution way of thinking. Draft You are the reason behind me "I'm right", or " I'm wrong" grating me about your righteous way of correction agreeing to you, An rated words to a rescued agreeance. -Chirayu

17

And spray-painted "Black Lives DON'T Matter" In the parking lots The week before they changed the wifi name To "School Shooting at 1" But it doesn't matter! Of course it matters, but it doesn't But listen Because what I have to say might be important The truth of the matter is this: Hate is so cruel It's mean That's its nature! But we don't have to accept it Those incidents? They were a couple different things Caused by a few ******* teens. But it doesn't matter Because we are all here to just be That's all. We are meant to hurt To cry To bleed To be pained But it is not the end state I do not care what your personal beliefs are But I do Because you are an individual soul Fragile and beautiful But you are just one The same for myself Now think Together we can be powerful We can be strong and wonderful We are unstoppable Have you ever seen a revolution led by only one person? No supporters? No agreeance? More than likely not. But it always starts with one. One person One idea One value One soul One perspective I am ready to take up arms Against cruelty Against hate Let's start a revolution Let's love

0

Sep 29, 2017

Sep 29, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC

hidingwithharley

So They Tried to Burn Down My School

And spray-painted "Black Lives DON'T Matter" In the parking lots The week before they changed the wifi name To "School Shooting at 1" But it doesn't matter! Of course it matters, but it doesn't But listen Because what I have to say might be important The truth of the matter is this: Hate is so cruel It's mean That's its nature! But we don't have to accept it Those incidents? They were a couple different things Caused by a few ******* teens. But it doesn't matter Because we are all here to just be That's all. We are meant to hurt To cry To bleed To be pained But it is not the end state I do not care what your personal beliefs are But I do Because you are an individual soul Fragile and beautiful But you are just one The same for myself Now think Together we can be powerful We can be strong and wonderful We are unstoppable Have you ever seen a revolution led by only one person? No supporters? No agreeance? More than likely not. But it always starts with one. One person One idea One value One soul One perspective I am ready to take up arms Against cruelty Against hate Let's start a revolution Let's love

49

Losing myself by the day, by the night as it comes. Sinking and being ****** further in. And I know I shouldn't care so much Because it's all just trivial in the end. But these conflicting feelings repel like magnets. My loss of patience is tragic. These burdens eat at my heart and challenge my soul. As I try to be a rock and not to roll.. Transparency is me But only for the ones that see. If your pride separates us, I build my wall for you and walk away. For a connection without trust Cannot be genuine in any way. Mistake my silence for agreeance Because I won't be bothered with your ignorance. But I choose to turn from childishness And step into consciousness. Forgive me for not giving into the game the ego plays. For my higher self wants to stray From the path of insecurity and hurt And social normalities. And I say **** it to your fake formalities. Being pulled by the current of the world and torn to shreds By the animals that walk it, My body and mind have grown weary. As I realize eminent outcomes so dreary.. But of all the unfortunate ends, Would be my unfolding social suicide. Swayed and influenced into reaction Rather than reflection, I become part of the disease, the infection. Following the useless herd with no sense of direction. As I try to return to myself once again, I know within, its all meaningless and I should only love. But my mortal feelings challenge me. I attempt to ascend and look to stars above. All this emotion and wisdom I have, balancing. Not sure if my silence is growth or indifference, or maybe just pain. But my reactions, whether how I feel or not, are hard to cover and feign. So this is what it means to be human.

0

Mar 15, 2018

Mar 15, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC

yolonda-dahl

Outlier

Losing myself by the day, by the night as it comes. Sinking and being ****** further in. And I know I shouldn't care so much Because it's all just trivial in the end. But these conflicting feelings repel like magnets. My loss of patience is tragic. These burdens eat at my heart and challenge my soul. As I try to be a rock and not to roll.. Transparency is me But only for the ones that see. If your pride separates us, I build my wall for you and walk away. For a connection without trust Cannot be genuine in any way. Mistake my silence for agreeance Because I won't be bothered with your ignorance. But I choose to turn from childishness And step into consciousness. Forgive me for not giving into the game the ego plays. For my higher self wants to stray From the path of insecurity and hurt And social normalities. And I say **** it to your fake formalities. Being pulled by the current of the world and torn to shreds By the animals that walk it, My body and mind have grown weary. As I realize eminent outcomes so dreary.. But of all the unfortunate ends, Would be my unfolding social suicide. Swayed and influenced into reaction Rather than reflection, I become part of the disease, the infection. Following the useless herd with no sense of direction. As I try to return to myself once again, I know within, its all meaningless and I should only love. But my mortal feelings challenge me. I attempt to ascend and look to stars above. All this emotion and wisdom I have, balancing. Not sure if my silence is growth or indifference, or maybe just pain. But my reactions, whether how I feel or not, are hard to cover and feign. So this is what it means to be human.

41

~for Traveler & Jo- *they who read, he who creates, and supplies a marvelous word fresh born, and we celebrate a new word’s* nativity: +agreeance+ if only I could sing or even write with Niagara Falls force of appreciation what a miraculous joy, this original pasta and sauce of letters that was never/always meant to be conjoined* +that nuanced combo+ of agreement + happenstance agreeably connects my heart and emotions in my early morn period of tallying all the little steps morning brings to verify that my breathing is good my heart is open and exposed, for all the tears I’ve already wept in but a few moments already in but a few minutes reading your new poems and message that are so heart rendering* and I can smile for the world and I are in a state of fulsome agreeance!

0

Dec 16, 2024

Dec 16, 2024 at 7:57 AM UTC

nat-lipstadt

We are in agreeance

~for Traveler & Jo- *they who read, he who creates, and supplies a marvelous word fresh born, and we celebrate a new word’s* nativity: +agreeance+ if only I could sing or even write with Niagara Falls force of appreciation what a miraculous joy, this original pasta and sauce of letters that was never/always meant to be conjoined* +that nuanced combo+ of agreement + happenstance agreeably connects my heart and emotions in my early morn period of tallying all the little steps morning brings to verify that my breathing is good my heart is open and exposed, for all the tears I’ve already wept in but a few moments already in but a few minutes reading your new poems and message that are so heart rendering* and I can smile for the world and I are in a state of fulsome agreeance!

45

Standing wild-violet-timid in careful shoes, I collapse into Monday. My internal weather is spiky with low-level nausea. Brain fog, mind-cloudy at first, with a high chance of precipitation across the afternoon. Externally, the settling cold front will bring morning squalls before a high-pressure system arrives in the early evening. Difficult to know what shoes are needed for this day, this time, let alone what armour, masks, and steel with this climate, this energy... Hard to predict what will be stored in memory by this mind, this brain... This questionable, yet seldom questioned, recording of events, from my flawed perspective only... Should I attempt to trust myself today? The answer neither clear nor confident Instant reflex shoulder shrug With gaze-avoiding fizzy nerves A patent hint that I may be a trifle less than competent What lens will shape my history today? And will it light me kindly or in glare? When my parts construct the story Hope they break it to me gently But I know that my track record not-so-subtle hints beware If my brain detects a glimpse of faults or glimmers of malfeasance, it will use these torts to make the case that I deserve all grievance from a host of inner parties with a wavering allegiance the impedance to agreeance is a tendence to vehemence, so How will I use the playback from today? I could use it well in kindness or in pain With the re-runs stealing airtime From productive contemplation I could use it as more proof that I should not have trust again… Tomorrow, I will wear my security boots, with stronghold socks.

0

Nov 9, 2024

Nov 9, 2024 at 3:21 AM UTC

jill_1

Which shoes should I wear?

Standing wild-violet-timid in careful shoes, I collapse into Monday. My internal weather is spiky with low-level nausea. Brain fog, mind-cloudy at first, with a high chance of precipitation across the afternoon. Externally, the settling cold front will bring morning squalls before a high-pressure system arrives in the early evening. Difficult to know what shoes are needed for this day, this time, let alone what armour, masks, and steel with this climate, this energy... Hard to predict what will be stored in memory by this mind, this brain... This questionable, yet seldom questioned, recording of events, from my flawed perspective only... Should I attempt to trust myself today? The answer neither clear nor confident Instant reflex shoulder shrug With gaze-avoiding fizzy nerves A patent hint that I may be a trifle less than competent What lens will shape my history today? And will it light me kindly or in glare? When my parts construct the story Hope they break it to me gently But I know that my track record not-so-subtle hints beware If my brain detects a glimpse of faults or glimmers of malfeasance, it will use these torts to make the case that I deserve all grievance from a host of inner parties with a wavering allegiance the impedance to agreeance is a tendence to vehemence, so How will I use the playback from today? I could use it well in kindness or in pain With the re-runs stealing airtime From productive contemplation I could use it as more proof that I should not have trust again… Tomorrow, I will wear my security boots, with stronghold socks.

35