My dreams come falling down in the palm of my hand.
Each and every thought like a piece of sand.
Some fall through the small cracks of my fingers.
On the floor and in the wind it lingers.
A drip to drink and a bottle to sip.
As I mess up again there I go. I slip.
Trying to keep tendered head.
As I lay here in distorted eagle spread.
Wondering why I do all of these stupid things.
And all of the trouble and hardships it brings.
A sickening feeling of getting caught.
Such a stupid move even by just the thought.
But I brush it off and attempt to move forward.
Truly not knowing what I’m heading toward.
Not knowing what to come of this must wait and see.
From this act of such stupidity.