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,
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 or 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.