Alone, in an abyss, that is around perpetual
dark, deep, and pivoting sky.

It does not know where it will fall, where it came from,
what it is meant to be, or how precisely it all happened.

It is inside of introversion, an outsider to elsewhere.

Still here waiting to figure out when to go.

Lost inside it's own border, it all goes away, but seems ever so perpetual.

Restlessness of isolation. When will the dreams grow reality?

Still here waiting to break free, run free, and melt away.

Self-driven purpose segregates from systemized atrocity.

The blanket covering scars and reminders of the past.

The blanket healing scars and reminders of the past.