Critcal Condition....

           
           
           
           
           
                  when nothing seems to fit one well,            
                  like a diver's bad parachute;            
                  a peaceful song may play, in the mind;            
                  along to a twisted once upon a time;            
                              
                    when news are old; ground breaking is like,            
                    just more bones under the table;            
                     in need of a hand; no applause for a cause;            
                     perhaps just someone who feels you with a passion,          
         throughout your days; as if your grip no longer seemed to get you off;            
           
                    bows and arrows are like a bloody mess only seen,            
                    by the handled and handlers until the aroma goes bad;          
                like that pie that's sweet, but goes rotten;          
                 like sky dives, and bad parachutes....          
                something more forever rare, and far from reach....