It feels good lost
Rather than seek being found
Insecurity stems curiosity
To do what's around
Is what is to bend
A self-loathing act
Towards hypocrisy
I'm topsy turvy and whirled to the ground
Constantly thinking
"How did I even end up over here?"
A disillusioned counterintuitive conduit
Of recklessness
Of shapeless abandon
All is now, and now it all is gone
But after awhile, in the heat of the moment
Did I question
"To what length must I bend?"