How do I feel after the heat of the moment?
Is fear washed away
and reasoned anger replaced with patience?
Is my belief that life is a circle still intact?
How do I feel after love has been accepted and murdered;
vanquished not treasured?
Will i be the same after this dissection,
carefully put back together
so that my outlook is as caring,
my mind both conveniently blind and practically insightful?
What was and what I should become,
scarring me so that the past and the future
will be defeated
My memories will visit history too often
whilst one foot muddles ahead,
the real me bound to the moment
in-between where sorrow and dreams meet as lovers
to breathe in madness.