Mistreated
Within false interpretations of what hides the living life of me, I flock to the arms of what my heart tells me I need, I remember vividly the childish acts of my ambiguous mistreating’s loving my with such greed.
Too much acknowledgment of what this world will hold, keeps me structured and strong, thrilled I swim around correctable wrongs; a troubled future indeed, leaps me up at crawling speeds… unplaced with an awareness of exactly where I belong.
The endless style of sorrow, chocks the grip-less hand feeding my mouth and yet I speak confident without much thought, fussing over the style of what keeps me wild and youthful like a child, just explodes every verb in my mouth.
Devious while marking my steps with the aroma of my thought processes, bringing myself closer to my true want to fully confess the changeling times of my excited unhappiness.
Misguided by the confidence of my spirituality, and jealous over some of the things it holds, I’ve come to realize just what gets the best of me and age my childish soul,
Some thoughts are so mistreated.
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