back to my ways
back to my words
that help dissolve the walls of this maze
i build and rebuild everyday in my head that sways
and mostly nods
not quite the same person
but only in the number of dead-cells
not quite the same emotion
but only in the distance from its existence
not quite the same struggle
but only in the intensity of my furrowed brows
“not quite,” they said, or commanded
who’s to say
this time we hope to repeat less and repent more
this time we hope to forget more and forgive for sure
this time we hope to less of a piece and more of a whole
“this time,” they said, or yelled
who’s to say
just intentions
and/or volume
A Blind Bird 