Run with Horses
Freedom.
Being free.
The freewill to do whatever one wants to do.
Keeping ones options open.
But having the good judgement to choose the right one.
Rather than just flipping a coin.
Why is he so special?
The discernment of logic.
How can he be not?
The pelt of thy heart.
But all these, minutiae.
Full of insight, but unreasoning.
Unbound, yet restricted.
Real, but all pretended.
Optimistic, yet still morose.
Now dont you fret my bon ami
Im not being sinister and hostile.
Just for once in my life
I want to run with horses.
Be fast enough to compete.
No longer reined in.
Suppressed and pent-up.
There is no need to state in detail.
Strip layers to core.
Whats there is there, acknowledged or not.
Although this unintended but somehow deliberate scheme.
Has left me all bitter and bruised.
All serenity has gone.
Plainly relinquished.
Growing lenient in the queue.
In all this gloominess.
Its no longer something asked.
Or considered questionable.
This here is intended to be confusing.
For reasons I’d rather not disclose.
