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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
We Are Tangled
our strings are tied together,
for the time being.
I wind and tangle,
knot and weave,
with my side.
The knot has become so large
it obstructs my view.
your string,
I cannot feel it.
Have you cut loose?
I hope that it's there,
winding and stretching,
playing with its boundaries.
I cannot help but wonder though,
why is my side the only mess?
I cannot see so I could be wrong.
I cannot feel so you might be gone.
I guess I'll never know
not until you tell me...
or, I cut loose the ties first.





 
 
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