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Reflections From My Initial Intent
Folder:
New-ish and New It's either in or out
You cannot whisper when forced to shout
Locked in a tomb
Fed from the womb
Since when did seclusion morph into dependency?
And then there's a face
So distant, yet so familiar
in a way I can't describe
Longing
To open the tomb is my main objection at this point
but can I handle the light?
Can I stare back into the face of danger
and not get hurt
Locked in a tomb
we've spoken too soon
Staring into the reflection of an all too comfortable
scene
But are you seeing me?
