They tell me I must be able to write about what makes me ‘me’,

Spill onto these pages what’s true, my identity

Condensed for comprehension, watered down for consumption.

to grab my mind by its vices and virtues till crimson seeps out?

the clouds are roaring, the universe is screeching. ever so often lightning cracks the sky open, followed by the cries of thunder. and yet i still can't ignore the static all around me, swallowing me whole.

tick, tock. tick, tock.

the race to perpetuity seems as punishing as ever. your reverberating presence fades by the second.