Shallow grave

Reflection through the magnification and the determination that you strive to give. Every single ounce of yourself all of your soul depleted, as you claw your way up through the soft earth, a freshly dug grave.

Whispering winter willow trees howl through your hair, as you sit up and reach for the forbidden fruit, finding it’s bitten by the apple of his eye.

You’ll feel a small bit of pressure, a small pinch sedated and unable to be present in the moments that are miraculous.

Looking through the window and watching your life do a broadway show number unable to feel all the pieces intertwine and work together like a true team.

Group projects were never really your deal.

Being present was never your longevity.

Feeling distant and different from It all, lying down and burying yourself shallowly below the work, the progress, the determination and the denial of talent that lies beneath your shell.

Fistful after fistful of damp cold soil packed right on top just loosely enough to encase your soul, sewing new seeds over to create something beautiful.