Creviced Cycles

I was wasting, still put to waste.       My little crevices that I kept such boarded up feelings, venting but still blocked like a strong cement dam

I would do almost anything to fall asleep, even to the sound of my scratching mind, metaphorical fingers scraping up and down with every heart pulse
At times, I think I’ve exhausted every outlet, writing words until my hands can’t even hold the device
Longboarding to the rhythm of the trees, weaving in and out with the wind

I’ve even tried standing close to some sort of edge, imagined and physical
As soon as I’d hear a car honk or feel eyes on me, it was like my mind was waving to me

They say the stars align and maybe that’s why I love them so much because things either happen or don’t happen for a reason and if it’s unknown, it’s most likely because we haven’t stumbled across a valuable explanation yet
It doesn’t always matter how far we’ve come or how far we have left to go, our bodies stay alive to fight the battle that our mind feels it’s lost its strength to

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