Transition

As I sit amongst the grey of rain impending
At the surface I am docile, while pretending
Nothing heeds to answer questions that I’m sending

Unequivocal restless plagues my being
For with each and every day all that I’m seeing
Is a repeat of the day of once before
And I fear I cannot stand a minute more

At long last relinquished vices of suppression
Reflecting back at me, an image of aggression
Yearning all the while for traces of progression

In Transition, she resides
While her present way, it dies
They grow around her, in goodbyes
What becomes, we know not yet
In confusion she’s beset