
It is what it is
As if I were not entangled.
Stuck
lost in illusions of Control
It is
thumbprints press hard
on the outer part to shape shift being
into a failed construct
facade
hiding a soul looking for the light behind
to dispel shadows and such
searching for life beyond the creep of forced ideals
into everlasting peace
Even in the darkest waters
Energy lurks
Enduring time
Enlisting seasons of change
To spark the flow.
Bone cold
shiver
wanting a way to warm
forgotten
drafty doors but solid walls
shaken
within the embers burned