I have fashioned myself this way and that
And still find my unravelings and
Those things which tatter and disintegrate
From dragging along the ground.
Should I then wonder which is more true,
The former or the latter or should
I continue on as I am, as this is who I am?
Are we all not so much the sum of
Our bests but the pieces of our brokens?



Dance for me just once more
With the silences you think
And the written word you speak.

Drudge up our old plays again
Give our vinyl record another spin
So I can recall what I had forgotten.

Now stop your dancing and admit to charading.
Throw the vinyl record, send it smashing.

Of our play I believe Shakespeare wanted it tragic but
There are things in life that should be finished never.