Alone in my thoughts.
The scariest place I know of.
My decisions haunts me:
I hated the norm,
But I can't simply ignore it.
I must follow it
And change it bit by little bit
Until it forms into a shape I like.
But the cement has hardened
For I took to long.
I cannot just add water
And ask it to be fluid again.
Now my hands are tired and dirty
With nothing but mud to shape.
I will still say to life:
Give me nothing,
and I will still be able to create.
Even if it pains me.
Even if I no longer can.
I will create in my mind
What my body can no longer accomplish.
Leaving a trail
For the next sculptor
So that when he understands my thoughts,
He will become better than I.
And the protocol completes
another cycle.
