Blessed be the blessed me
cursed to recreate repeating mistakes.
Blessed be by blessed chance
to squander the stabs at peace.
By the decisive or the circumstantial,
I spin circles with bleeding pens,
searching for endings in spheres,
dissecting a globe for its edge,
half willing and half unwilling in a mind’s ignorance,
having witnessed the self-made flaws
and half loving and half unlovingly drenched them in cement.
Blessed be the blessed me;
the statue in my path.
Blessed be by blessed restraint
to repair the apparently irreparable.
Told to adore through surviving
and idolizing the struggle towards aspiring,
I’m writing off skin marks as a knife’s love bites,
unintentionally intentional as an improvement tool,
deliberate in its use but equated to negative,
yet I am assured to inject fable into math,
confusing the losing side as the breathing side.
Blessed be the blessed me,
returning to revenge versus glass.
( ❤ Mitch)