[untitled]

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?

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[untitled]

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.