The hourglass has been tilted. The shifting sand is smooth and quick, and slow and painful all at the same time but it is so air tight it has no idea how much I need it.
Is this cryptic? I learned to speak in codes. That way nobody is hurt for sure. Rather unsettling for anyone to want to take my inane ramblings so seriously. Do they know what these words mean to me? Or do they just care? I doubt it.
A few moons ago, I would care. But now, that side of me has left the right in charged. This is a sympathetic lie to a last goodbye. Such disdain. One should only disarm so much.
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