What would you venture to achieve,
If mountains awaited your phone call?
Maintaining misery through repeated footsteps,
While deciding an unworthy response.
A year away.
Bringing fortune and multitude upon my return,
Is it worth leaving my now?
Dependent souls of innocent beings rely on my ethic,
For this level of care is rare.
The rhyme,
My boundaries between being clueless and pretending,
I hate to live passionless days.
On to drifted waters, brisk winds, and soft hair.
Camera flashes and heavy jewelry.
These false beauties embrace the innocence of vulnerable stares.
Beneath the covers of magnitude is there, what is real.
I hate to be standing.
Running fears behind slammed doors.
I'm so tired of fighting.
Fringed lampshades, an untied silk robe, and mascara stained pillow cases.
Understanding is scarce, the simplicity of decisions have never phased.
Genuine like.
