A poem about finding my ability to relieve myself through writing only after writing for someone that didn’t care…
Align with my intensity or find I have a calculated propensity reiterated dearly in my mind that you are clearly fated to be defined, in all your density, merely as a moment of time I left behind. A moment of rhyme, dotted and signed in the bind, slotted behind the rewind of time that I allotted then refined, plotted, designed, jotted, the ink blotted my mind, combined and intertwined, turned spotted then rotted… and only as I went blind, bent and confined, was I sent to find how I am meant to unwind.
Verbose Musings 