(copyrighted image)
Intent.
assumptions we make, we don't know.
we think, aren't meant to let things go.
we obsess over an undressed guess;
but we confess, have words to express.
do you recognize the pattern? a crick.
reaction to the stolen lantern? a prick.
to when coffee kills taste buds of create.
to swallow air and wait to see the rate.
just speak and seek, i'm right here;
it seems to be now a little too mere.
hindered and winded out of its scale,
astray times and crimes, a musing tail.
a lost mechanism to balance the equation,
as this just seems like a stubborn occasion.
but then again, there never was proportion.
because we are the pulse to life's distortion.
wherever the leave for this realease goes,
one waits to set eyes on the pinokiyo nose;
to see, what i see, to say nothing, like i did.
you need to realize as i intently hid this bid.
;[signed]
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