Is to understand too much?
Analysing every nod, touch or word and harking to things untold?
The future unfolds, and it then hides.
Desires contort, no longer owned. Never left alone.
Words of honesty and wishes become swallowed inside coils tightly bound.
A pretty scarf sharply wound in rusty razor like precision, engineered through fear and superstition.
Honour and politeness confused with walking a mile in another’s shoes.
It would seem the path to follow is the one in which your own hand is held.


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