For me, this is a small place.
A space to examine my pace.
Living life in broken cadence
moving through time like I’ve been sentenced
to urgency, scarcity and doubt.
It’s going to take a turnabout.
We are all born with a series of stories.
We’re told their true, no matter how gory.
The magic paint is prolific stuff
especially if its swished around in a huff.
This is a small place, a pathway out.
It’s that little turnabout.
