When I cross the finish line,

It’ll be clear that mother nature has run her course.

Clairvoyance of the now, I can foresee.

A vulnerable reality.

For my meek heart only thinks in terms of accomplished disappointments.

There’s not enough ointment to heal these wounds,

Mind buried in a tomb,

Beautiful soul, ticking boom!

Blahs.

I cannot control what is meant to align naturally.

And everything I run from seems to boomerang back to me.

I guess every time I close my eyes, my dreams are meant for me to see.