There is always a balanced

A pretender A giver A fighter A lover

Certainly Uncertain

The paradox of a forgotten tomorrow and

a foretold yesterday

Can’t exude the pain, the relapse or fear

Stellar thoughts don’t reside here.

Why does she insist on such a prominent demise

Is demise the truth. Or does the truth coincide.

With the love of the light or a shed in the dark

Cornered by folly, to a staggered remark.