Symphonic a simple plan has been presented,
and yet it's simplicity eludes me,
I can hear the words being addressed in complete reassurance that it can be done,
I just can't seem to take those words and place their promised labels over that wounds that I keep picking at.
Is this my pattern foretold?
Can I even grasp anything with my shaky fingers anymore?
Life passes by waving it's arms in greeting, and I being the solitude I am, give it the finger in return.

Why? Why must I remain in self torture?

I can still see out the window of my soul and yet it feels like a prison,
without any other inmates.

My path it seems to be overgrown, forcing me to slash and hack in order
to make any headway, while I look back the newly made roadway dissapears.

I do need someone who can brace my mind, provide the sustenance I crave so dearly, a diagram in which two particpate.

A new chart.
what's it to you?
who go