One trying to correct mistakes, find a new direction, and strengthen identity.
Fraught in a skein of a driftless existence,
Life’s demarcations stand out like a mushroom on a suburban lawn
Very troubling are the state of these negative tendencies,
A grease stain applied to the floor of the condemned asylum dubbed the skull
Reevaluating a belief system deemed delusional,
Visiting the former reality only to reflect upon what was considered the good moments
The era of being a personal bummer has commenced,
Imaginary trumpets and brass section cheer him on
Marginalized as a flinching character carrying a short shelf life,
Transformed into a brand which is rather bland
Emotionally wounded, needing a fresh acumen to accept as true,
Only then will the rudderless compass speak his language once again
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