but got lost in the herd.

and to join the misfit class,

i may just end up last.

for the gaps in the glass,

aint filling up fast.

because if coffee flows,

and the path it glows,

failed not the cover,

but through the feather of one's nest

in the frame of a lover,

lest the adverse result of rest

give rise to the infliction,

coloring the intention.

and when the sword drops,

the minimum is shown in the dead crops.

the plunge in the baby pool, on the contrary of the floating in the water tornado.

touch and go fits drive through more than dining in.

the unawareness that struck.

how could it be u knew,

when i wasn't ?

i know they miss,

through their licks of bliss.

consistency in discipline is the cement which holds the bricks together.

wither on the vine,

my intention-less.

but to wither the hardiest ego,

was a choice of yours.

when the only bridge gets chopped,

the only route which connects vanish.

and when the vines twirl the fence,

the castle can only be circled but not discovered.