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A Final Plea: a pattern of thoughts
I stand here
although my mind is there
in a frigid stance
with thoughts that can't help but dance.
I am here in anxiety's grasp,
separated by the before and the now.
I wish you were here with me now
but then again I wish I wasn't here,
in the government's frightening grasp
with you clueless out there.
We never did get to dance,
a thought that occurs no matter my stance.
My thoughts are a blur no matter my stance
even as I try to sleep now
images cross my mind in a familiar dance
and all I can do is remain still, remain here
and they expect me to think of there
and I do think of there as my grasp-
As my grasp
loosens, as my stance
forgets what it's like to stand, to be there
instead of caught up with all this from now.
As everything I am and was comes here,
flooding in like an ocean’s dance.
that slips my grasp
so easily and just leaves me here,
stuck in this stupid old stance-
pretend I'm okay now, take a pill now-
with thoughts that I left you behind, left you there.
I left you there
with Numbers that’ll never dance.
Amy, where are you now?
Your phone number has slipped you're grasp
Has your confidence slipped your stance?
They're coming again, coming here-
(Amy, please, let this be my last plea!)
Once upon a time,
You were the lightning, I was the cloud-
and yet we were not meant to be.