I don’t know which one

to tell, to elaborate upon.

I have all these moments

call them experiences

all with a common

denominator, a sameness

that I can think about

that I can’t think about.

I have all these stories

they are the mold of my life,

every little bit of strife,

every time I feel fascinated

I find some way to reduce

the harmony of my passion.

When I was a younger man,

the story had just began

of a young boy in crisis

he’d lost a lot in his short life.

He knew people grew tired

he was fatigued himself

figured it was only normal,

lived that way every day.

He wondered when the day

would arrive he might look away.