Just, If I

This is me, in the heart of fall
Coldness lurks, death’s frantic call
And this stillness shakes me
Reflecting on things that break me
Crushing the spirit, but in the end
It makes me
And I don’t even know it
Like a true spoken poet
Stumbling since I was born
Clothes worn get so worn
Torn
By the sacrifices for greater good
Sometimes unaccepting yet always understood
And if I could
I’d choose a path well justified
If not at the time, then at the end
Besides,
It’s just, if I
Could be aware, well then
I’d feel spared
Broken,
Or rather, temporarily impaired
But is it not so?
Amidst all my woes,
I’m here, with less fear
And all my fingers and toes
And in turn, all my paths Undeniable
Justifiable
Through and through
Sweet tragedies, renewed
And regret is but a debt
That is way over due
Respectively
I’m repressed free
Earning my yearnings
War wounds of stories
And as I’ve written before
Nothing less, nothing more
To the core
Extensively
Expense free
This is me. This is me.