It's the same idea being recycled
Strange how it always returns to square one
Sitting there, so innocently
You can almost reach out, but hold back
Kicking yourself in the aftermath
Clenched tight, with wandering eyes
A poet's soul, while lacking central theme
And concentration lay shattered on the floor
But I remain
Footsteps deep inside
While attractive eyes dart about once every so often
Holding the moment when text becomes reality
And all else is relative
Grinding, twisting echoes
Like pins to the senses sparking telepathic conversations
Leading a new feedback forward
And I remain
A familiar face set to a different tone
With clearness that speaks a beautiful story demanding to be read
But my lack of words holds me back
The situation breeds the opposition
We remain
Readiness hits the fan as ideas spark confusion
And assertiveness only serves as aggravation
The clock sets the stage
The piano plays on
Separate, we move on