I feel lost here, not crying in my room but wondering where and when.
I feel as if those cursory glances were stolen, misread when I tell truth.
I envisioned tackling and changing how they do business.
The men with their thumb drives like mine. I remember the lies they'd tell. Just to get another sell.
I can't take from people, and perhaps, then some do pity. But I never use, abuse. If I do it's without understanding.
Some would call me a robot, but that's not true either. Zombie? Nah. Tell me straight and I'll do what it is you want.
I won't lie that my mind lingers, wanders through permutations. I build and build and then am crushed under the weight.
For a season I have no reason, and then the cycle expunges my hopes. But some day that cycle will stall, and never come again.
oscillation at end.