Witless

Be it my way and the world would be endlessly at my fingertips. My passions are swayed with but the glimmer of a smile. I remember and suck in the balmy pre-dawn air, pink with anticipation, watching fire dance on the bellies of distant clouds. Dawn breaks effortlessly, as it does day after day, and I am awestruck. The darkness is only a prelude to such extravagancy, but I have forever found the darkness to be just as beautiful as the daylight, if not moreso. Darkness; scary, elusive, full of trickery and illusion, yet quaintly beautiful, seductive and most of all, exuding clarity. Backwards? It’s a possibility.
It is a fact that certain things change with time, and I will choose to believe such a thing; alas, I find hope in it. Will I ever gain what is sought after? Maturity. I am seemingly referred to as skinned-knees and childish playmate, & I can’t help but feel that I play the fool…. amusing at best. Will I ever become more than that still-frame that seems to be deeply and forever embedded in your mind? I am witless and cry out against it, slamming my fist into the solid steering wheel. My eyes are hard, cold, and somewhat distant, and tears hover in the corners, begging to fall. I begin to wonder if there will ever be a release, and if so, will it ever mean a damn thing? My feelings are thinnly-veiled, disguised poorly through my written words. I rebel against feelings that are beginning to take hold, rooting themselves in my very soul, but it does naught. They are present, and will remain so ’til my dawn breaks. Are our dawns contradictory? I curse fate and I curse the waiting, though I have to stick to what I have pledged to do. I am not a child, though even that sounds childish.
-sigh-
Forgive me, my heart speaks though my brain stills my tongue. Love? I think not, but potential abounds. I am not weak of will or heart, but logic must needs be present. I hold fast to the thought of someday. I shall not look elsewhere, only forward as I travel on the proverbial straight and narrow. It is what I predict, but not what is set in stone. I will try, though my self-control slips often, and I can’t help but to find myself praying for accidents.
I am disgusted, but there is naught to do but watch, listen, breathe, repeat.

Love life,
Amanda