Blood On The Canvas

I can’t be so perfect anymore.
When the arms of comfort still dare to intrude around my waist
All I ever wanted was a sense of purpose
In such a second, an upheld moment
Fist of opportunity
Taking heart from my words
Ripping the tears from my eyes.

I am slowly sliding away from the boundaries I set around myself.
With thoughts of an impatient salvation cutting into my mind.
But isn’t this hypothetical?

Intentions a twist,
And not a thought on my surroundings.
This isn’t the smile I was expecting to greet me.
These aren’t the introductions I recall.
This is the cutting half smile of an ex-guardian, and the betrayal that follows.

Never letting go of my heart, 
I’m in for the rollercoaster experience.
Thrown into the ocean, the cold water a shock,
I feel so trapped by the openness.

I’ll become another cliché, forever doomed to happiness.
Seemingly conformed to repeatable symptoms. I’ll be called into discontent.
Always there to disconnect.

The End

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