it's early mornings
late afternoon
on a too hot day
you come home burned
but with a sense of accomplishment
it's quiet walks
with your thoughts by your side
and also with everything you carried that died
it's energy and love and light
and hate and confusion and venom
it's being knocked breathless
by something so mundane
it's the wrong song
you can't quite get out of your head
it's almost right
but it's just not