this fire
once stoked by the wood
from my undying forest
seems to be dwindling
in the crushed eyes of forgotten tomorrows
and I once thought so clear
I was a ghost in the mirror
now my loley reflection stains
my vivid recollection
and I stare not through
but at whom I
never thought I would become

We've invented a million ways to tell a story

Adjectives and synonyms to value our thoughts

Little saucer eyed dolls use happy sad pretty ugly
Our sculls thicken around swollen brain links
We develop lingo and secret codes to dance around the truth
Inventions of complication
Syndication on an over developed dialect
Our words grow longer
As our recolection of the very idea we hoped to convey becomes skewed
Muddled in adjectives
Convoluted in rhymes
Twisted in talk
We forget our own simple thoughts

Our roots are buried underneath a blanket shadow

Thesaurus nation

Looking in the sky in reflection, only to see recolection of my mistakes as a collection. Always trying to be perfect but being flawed leaves only the option to learn. Constantly looking in her direction waiting for her decision, when you realize there is no such thing as emotional precision. Whatever goes, goes and whatever her reaction is whatever shows