Desperation shackling judgment,

One-sided patterns of repetition delimits individual development

Thought process locked up, proposals to be retrieved at a later date

Methods feel wasted, floundering in reticence

Personality undercover, longing for a convoy

Somewhere along the way, misplaced the ability to illustrate with alacrity

Neither a serious gun artist,

Nor a celebrated pacifist

Never was bronzed, and haven’t been in mint condition since the time in a womb

There is still time; conversely, the hands of the clock are dwindling