Taking It Apart
Dace Merryweather
Most of the time I search for the reasons and answer to questions that came from outside.
The words that they give seem to rewind the seasons while something important has slipped from my mind.
Taking apart all the things that they built up; the seeds that they planted to bring me back again.
Reverse engineering their plans for the future; a work of destruction that never seems to end.
They fill me with hope and soft reassurances, carefully directing me down this path.
The words in my throat are owned by another and when I try to cry out all I can do is laugh.
The visions of order that grip and surround me are well crafted lies that will slowly become truth.
The echoes of what came before sometimes haunt me but try as I might I will never find proof.
