The Inner-workings


The Center Piece of any person

Is a Calm that fills a certain type of rhythm

Steady, Strong

I think about this all night long

My tick is a tock, my tock a strangled cry

My mind is wrapped around it self like a bandage over eyes

It makes me blind

I cannot see my own accomplishments

My dreams are blurry

There's a crazy sense of hopelessness and I can't help but worry

Is it a disease I read about and study just to please my fasination?

Or is it worse or less or nothing beyond this estranged imagination?

My calm is my inner-workings, broken but still there

It helps to steady my mind, although my strength is not there

I reach beyond my wildest dreams, my calm is brought by me

And my imagination is my tick, so my tick can be my tock

and my tock that lets out a cry, is calling out to battle

my depressions and anxieties to lessen or start regress'n

And my center is calm, self made and stready, like a ticking clock

It's who I am, It's what I am

It's my strength and who I can become.


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