I willfully ruminate within the memory of my

Shameful hesitation. Head down, mouth dry.

I question everything now. At this moment.

And I, myself, am a question mark;

I stretch, I reach for absolutes,

Knowing nothing.

Less than nothing,

I believe blatant lies.

I am a question mark, clinging to a cliff’s edge,

For no reason. And when I gain footing, I feign enthusiasm and fulfillment

At what purpose I pretend to have chosen for myself.

I invent a fantastic, and articulate lie. I dress it up as joy and anticipation for the destiny I assume.

And I stretch, until I can pass for an exclamation point.