if flowers do wither and windows do crack,

if rain dissipates and the sky looms black,

if our senses fail us and we shiver alone,

if everything feels like a torrent just adding to the storm,

hands cold, eyes closed, situated in the unknown.

Lately I've been thinking I'm not myself.

I don't know whether I know myself in such a definitive term, but I know what I'm not, and I'm certainly not the person as of late, it's as if an impostor has seized control,

the issue of control.

school.

grades.

family.

love.

church.

faith.

body.

food.

travel.

money.

cycle.

cycle.

the horizon lays beyond my reach, and every step I take keeps me at a distance.

I want my ambition back.