Creasy

11/16/2009
1:08 AM

The creases in my face spoke to me this morning.
My hand reached behind to grab ahold of the time,
but the systematic turning of the years rounded its fifth cycle,
and a part of me was cut open and taken out.
If I was injured before, I have misplaced the memory.
All I know is that I threw the ball and sat down in the grass.
I got up to move in the shade, where I made a new kind of appreciation for the other side of things.
I tried to fit in, but the other shades and I clashed.
I delved deeper into the darkness and found myself alone and unable to see.
I couldn't see my own hand in front of me and knew not who blemished my soul.
After the third attempt, I retracted and followed the lights.
It wasn't until I realized that the lights were following me that I came to the decision to start a change.
I feel a magnificently strong pull in some direction, but my compass has been shattered.
I am lost.
The alarm screams at me to start the morning while I sit and ponder where I have gone.
And then I realize that I still know nothing. And that I am still lost.