Middle faced, back to the wall
I found symmetry in all those flawed
After times I would not sense at all
As personal turmoil is unrecognizable,
it makes for all the more tragic a situation.
Profile scarred, chest to the ground
You found desolation in all those without passed memories
That would have clung onto your torso as they do
For your personal turmoil derailed all those suffering
From one or two malfunctions to their lower extremities.
Eyelash, I can hardly make out lengths of our stays
You as always call me too late
And I stay up past dawn as the sun goes down
All around my turmoil,
and your tragedy,
penetrating too deeply into your scars,
inflicting down the center.