Strings

The strings of the old me knotting in tightly;
Uttering the necessity of the situation at hand.

To go quietly down to the floor without a will is forbidden when you are as clumsy as me.

So I play with fire,
let it pull my strings
until what I desire
is held between my fingertips.

Letting a demon win was never in the cards that I play on a day like today;

when a moment is to close and time is of the essence.

I am restless...

Everything to do
and to lose
with one crack in the sidewalk.

I have too bend to make.

To play the part of the old me so strings will hold in place.