Ease
What I expect governs my likes of what I need, and how I act holds no protest towards how I express my greed.
Watchful of every lingering confession, seemingly under expressed, protective of the ironic situations in the love I hold between my breasts.
My habitual confirmations of what creates my frowns, weigh me down somehow; lost to the anticipation of the confrontational expectations in what could being this love around become our showdown and the disrespectful way we get-down.
Stuck center-core of reality, by the motherless impression of the individual who has birth my seed; feeling lost to the conventional model styled family and struggling with the visuals in this dream.
Listing to the reoccurring thoughts of forgiveness; fighting my lack of understanding this greed, I move with purpose through blurry vision and hope the very thoughts I mention lay my soul to ease.
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