Fracturing spaces where others cannot.

That’s how I am able to frame sentiment.

I have proved, within many moods, the medium drags deep.

It helps bring fruits from trees and tides from oceans.

It separates the commotion.

Choose to see what I want to see.

When placed in the middle, I live in reality or a shifted tragedy.

It’s as if I’m winged, beaming onto fellow’s esteem.

Propelling them to new heights.

And then I’m not, based like a shell or a rock.

Meant to divide attention.

Did I mention I can burrow into the lot?

Turn the scenario into my plot.

A foundation to the name that I bare.

People don’t care.

They don’t even dare to be bright.

Or see the light in other’s eyes.

They close the blinds against the breeze.

Not fulfilling their needs.

Honorable manners are too much.

But they still claim it.

Frame it into view.

Forsaken when nerves gets bent.

Too much spent on elaborate tricks.

When presented should I wear it or share it?

Should I fight or flight?

What if no one else sees the plight?

Can you break the surface?

Or will you walk the night?


 From the book Fractured Paths of Disheartened Minds.

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