Indian Summer - Reflections On Milkweed

Once again
I'm riddled with the task of peretrobating my thoughts
back to the foundation
in which my paranoia was forged
so I long the thoughts of end
solely secluded- its a lie.
to each his own, or so I've been told
along the scenes past
a journey never ending,
this tiresome moment annulled
why then- do I have mass beliefs and opinions
that do not come from wit of my mind, soul or heart
courage and strength are shields of which ive never bore in the battle of wills and might's of mortal men
coming down
so content with delirium in the fetal position
I've lost my will to fight,
drained my will to live
die before my time
sink slowly
I will rise
sinking
I will never travel brandishing a sharp tongue at a fear piercing my own heart.

A glimpse of motion
I perceived in journey