I was not the best person in the world and I was the only person in the world.
Industry kept me on its own strength.
Sometimes it’s nice and sometimes day is nothing.
Give me liberty or give me death?
This was never the final option.
Time and space?
Daring and self-importance;
here I am
yet is here even relevant.
Slowly the night seeps into its own,
there is no need for anguish.
I am tired of looking at
mirrors cast in every light;
tired of reflection that leads to more,
more design and I’m aching to let go.
Drop the center from my hand,
let the other clench and say,
Purpose will be mine.
Wisdom trusts one thing: