Fickle, the Mind of Someone Who Only Knows What It Doesn’t Want

This would’ve been perfect
Had you chose to
Not swerve at the curb

Now the spectrum of colors’
Muddied, dirtied or gray
Unclear, pixelated, blur

One act to ruin the whole
That irreversible knowledge that one peed in the pool
The bad taste one will never shake off
No matter how many times the mind restarts, gets retooled

This would’ve been perfect, he insists
On denying unaddressed cyst
Led her to the sterile table, to slaughter

But he isn’t pining what’s almost within his reach
It’s about taking this leash
Reeling it as all else starts to falter

<p value="<amp-fit-text layout="fixed-height" min-font-size="6" max-font-size="72" height="80">One would like to escape unscathed<br>But one only learns through burns and scarsOne would like to escape unscathed
But one only learns through burns and scars