Context sensitive, this package is about to explode.
One thousand words dispersed from that gaping yawn,
Hasn't our very existence already proven them wrong?
Love lessons, losing, learning, light limping,
But the cadence is lost, overwhelmed by a silent chorus.
They sing of hopeful despair,
the futility of wanting.
So I sing back my song of freedom,
of righteousness, of raw principal;
my voice drowns out that empty space.
So many situations that I hope to never know,
So much knowledge that I strive to never avoid.
This balancing act becomes an intersection
Between my patient respect
And the gnawing at my chest.