I confess that its in my nature to underestimate myself through every endeavor in trying to determine the fine line between what is reality and what my eyes see. when thoughts manifest, only hoping to digress. caught in a place between here and here I'll stay only imaging where my life could be but slowly confronting a truth:
where hearts have grown my grows cold and withers like fall leaves, hardening in winter, frozen in deep snow. I'll wait until spring to begin the cycle again. I'll wait until I remain to rest my head when the cycle begins again.