Where
to start, ever our lives, crying in private? I felt it deeply, to lose a
life,
and reach for good. It’s a foot to pedal, a simile, to ponder the coulds.
I
lied for volume, at unawares, to feel the victim. I’m not the lonely, but
torn
for bait, staring at a psyche; and what to give, pulled asunder, to affect
lives?
I have a daughter, to wonder why, and
filled with joys. I fault not
the
graph, glaring at blueprints, to conjure green eyes. It’s more to wine,
fraught
in spirit, to reminisce. She knew for love, to see a secret, a mile
in
prayer. I wanted heart, to settle a hostage, to muse a trophy. I do for
love,
a need for balance, to utter your name. Its shame and grit, a tad bit
numb,
composing prose; and what to give; and even think it; our very
lives?
I walk the deep, to probe for deeper, to pardon a psych. I think
for
mother, a born pistol, chanting crystals. The family’s wild, a
crowd
of souls, and filled with pride. I love us all, even both sides, and all
between;
and what to fight, to fall and rise, a moment in grains. I
blossom
sorely, to bud through trauma, to channel psychs. Indeed it’s
chills,
and daily pills, to suffer rills; and yes it’s coming, for souls to feel,
destined
this life. I soon forget, afraid to court, for glorious pain; but all
is
life, a love come pain, to filter grief; and what to give, consumed with
love,
sitting for daydreams. I look for grounded, and stern in trenches,
afraid to lose. I
know your heart, to channel life, as deadly as acid.
