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Something inspired by a friend |
To Whom it May Concern A fear of being too long in the telling A worry of being caught short In panic so calmed, silence lost in the yelling Right details left off the retorts Outcomes so smothered by awkward inaction With opening gambits, moves made Autopsies performed, too in depth, we lose traction Both concerns, and false costs overpaid With hatred, self loathing of what we become In front of the the face that we yearn Defective, devolved, errant parts of the sum In a place where its tough to discern Where nothing reacts, like it normally should Where the traffic one way, seems ignored We aim to respond, as we normally would Reduced to a child once more A child alone in an uncertain space That just moments before felt like home Till that one in a million, that bright Angel's face Stepped over the threshold unknown With wind chimes set spinning, unpinning as such With bells struck, strong, tolling so true Sometimes, when some things, just matter too much … you wonder if they're meant for you When it's different with literally everyone else An exception hooked to this one rule With nothing to fear, but fear itself … and the burden of being a fool A fear of shining, a gold Midas touch We go ante up, call a bluff A worry you have perhaps done, said too much … or more simply, not nearly enough |