Spontaneous Recreation
Events passed by like a car on the highway,
Loss of words kept me from catching up.
Everything I did was a mistake,
And lack of confidence made it a vicious cycle to cut.
But time goes on with no concern for personal problems,
Because problems are subjective and time is not.
So I learned to adapt,
And learned to create time out of my own rot.
Spontaneous recreation remade me in new flesh,
Not physical flesh but the metaphysical type,
Into a new incarnation of myself.
So I became one with who I am and what I write.
Fiction told my truth through a veil of stories.
I wrote my life onto pages of heroes and the hated.
I spoke my life on pages,
And through writing I was spontaneously recreated.