Paths twixt and twain.
keeping me light footed.
keeps me light headed and often confused
Drifting from my head to my body in rhythmic
patterns
So common I see patterns that create beautiful
sadness
A tapestry of past mistakes forming walls I have
yet to climb.
Invisible to all but a free and rampant as is ghost
of the wind.
I make my own bed and cannot lie in it,
I create my own reality but want not to live in it.
Is it odd that something so common can become
unknown
A bizarre amnesia with little chance for recourse
or re correction.
I suppose I should get used to it, but whats normal
anymore?
Edward Ramsden
I guess its all just a waiting game.
But not even I know who will win.
Tried to do something different with my font but it only highlights areas of the poem that I don't think are very good,
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