That time is created, time is reverse, time is emotion, time is a verse/curse. It’s now that I know, too that I lack, it’s now that I avoid, yet another panic attack. It’s now that I am, more than I seem, it’s now that I know, I’m more than I’ve been. Maybe I’m perfect, maybe I’m not, but when I am alone, it’s not that I’m not. Maybe those errors, grand or just small, maybe those things, and not things at all. It’s one of it’s two, moments in space, it’s a place or a face, an about pace. My mind is a weapon, a lost person’s crime, my mind is a tool, if I use it in time. When it’s here with me, when they are as well, it’s normal to wonder, is life truly hell. Then when I stop, I write her again, wondering if they, are one person’s den/hen. When words they get split, and a choice it presides, it’s hard to say both, and time is alive. My reaction is habit, my actions are too/two, and if I could see, that it’s me and you.
So when I slow down, each day I can’t sleep, I see that one person, is not enough to keep, (the faith alive). So here I impress, a thought on us both, how much is enough, and how much is vote. And why do I miss, so much all the time, when timing is perfect, I need my smooth line. And when the last comes, with it’s little sin, I wish I had listened, a split second within.
Clear & Precise Resumes 