 |
 |
| I am a wild dream fenced in by a brittle
soul |
| vivid concepts of grandeur boxed in by bare
bones |
| dragged from secret closets. |
| Skulls roll like golden apples at my
feet |
| to keep me from the finish line |
| Throwing me upon a course of
insecurity |
| to be scarred by the shrapnel of literary
mishaps. |
 |