Wilting seasonal scales of fear,
A provocative loosening of security,
I’m afraid of normalcy,
I do not want what is,
I’ve seen this landscape before,
Sometimes comforting but this week I’m nauseous,
I look to others for inspiration,
I find much the same verse as what I intend to relate,
And my chin sinks to my chest,
My eyes close,
Many thoughts of previous ignorance arise,
A wet substance runs the contours of my face,
And I think maybe this culture is a spoiled group,
I think this spoiled group is losing its spoils,
And I see this week as one spent alone,
Although there are people of beauty surrounding,
I am closed off to their joy
Because I want more than what I have,
But I have what I need.