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Disaster can be enticing.
I want to be the four winds that blow
persistently - until the storm arrives.

A storm that alters the balance.
The shockwaves reverberating against the fabric of reality
impact - where I once stood.

If I were the winds.
What would there be left in my wake
destruction - before the silence.
Something I think about once in a while, but really it's just a silly idea.

Credits to jkcreative for a great definition of lachesism.
It's like an old, wooden stairwell that lets out a creak every time you step.
Alerting you where you're headed,
as if it was meticulously crafted to track your descent into;

The depths of yourself.

No wonder it gets darker, for what you find doesn't illuminate.
The partial regression, piece by piece,
reduces your desire to retrace your steps from;

Where you began.

I only ever turn around if there's something I forgot at the top.
Just jumbled thoughts
Mayday, mayday our plane has crashed
the strings that tied us together have been clipped.
There is no further flight in this troubled sky,
Barren fields around every corner,
"There are no further grounds for negotiation"
Realize that we are scrambling ferociously to meet the same ends,
So instead why can't we all just be - friends.
Just a light that flickers at me while I read the news, filled with an air of naivety.
Apples can come in all shapes and sizes,
Two apples they are not the same,
See one and it's in your hand before it realizes,
Choosing the right one is part of the game,

They can look so sweet from where you sit,
But once you bite into that rotten part,
It changes your whole perception of it,
And can send and arrow through your heart,

To me I'm an apple not wholly bad,
To you the shiniest and most delectable you'd seen,
Sadly more bitter than you what thought you had,
But with time to ripen fit for my queen.

For apples to be we are both bruised,
We have been hurt and reduced,
Some visible, and some I denied the clues,
Yet together us perfectly flawed apples have fused,

Like a pair that only comes in a dual pack,
Still we cannot unfeel what we have felt,
Nor take back the damage i have dealt.
I vow to bring us back on track.

Let me be your sun,
Your source of growth,
Your only one,
So hear my oath.

I will be your love, your inspiration,
Like the apple of your first impression,
We will roll down hills and across nations,
For this is the long run and not a single session.

I see now that we could endure any weather
From stormy oceans to scorching heat
And one day i hope our seeds grow a tree together
That no other apple could possibly beat.
A something something that flowed through me one late night

— The End —