I am lost in perspective: me, movement, and time
Depicted in shaky lines repeated,
Traced over to be treated with more lead.
It's hope to hold for solidification that
Blackens the cracks of unstable communication.
But to straighten these fingers already slipping
Would be to find the heart that I put all my courage in,
That was pulled apart while I stared at the point of origin.
Because sometimes you go blind
When the brightness in your eyes sets in,
And sometimes this life ends
While you are waiting for it to begin.
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