I was worried about nothing. There was nothing on the slate.
There were rumblings in the closet. Though not the hand of fate.
Acceptance was my compliance. The wise had made a dent.
The voices had all left my head. Not broke but bruised and bent.
There’s a moment in the sunshine. With a cool September breeze.
I think I left her at the alter. To try some of, do as I please.