The spurious and dreary people,
That invade my life,
Swivel in caliber.
Detachment becomes involuntary,
And makes them expunge in my mind.
Subtlety, compassion, and apprehension glean into my heart.
I perforate,
And use my ambidextrous to my advantage.
I feel obscure and feeble
As I stolidly sprawl my garment into the hole I dug with my hands.
My body quivers as the wind blows against my neck.
The remorse that was thought to never exodus,
Relents, and gives me a florid symptom of joy.
When the sound of a gavel hitting wood
breaks up my thoughts.
I sneer as I turn around to find a shriveled vocation of joy.
A fire that was sure to have been prosecute.
I walk towards the burning chiffarobe,
And with pantomime I knee to the ground,
Facing the spasm of flames and cry.
For it was my worst enemy.
My furtive key that unlocked my past,
And reminded me of the stifling court room that tore my family apart.